Back Home
by Pointy Objects
Summary: When you've lost the only home you've known, the only love there is, and the one person who cares about you, where do you go? You go home, but where is home? Completed...no, really, it is this time. No lie...COMPLETED.
1. Default Chapter

Oh my goodness! My second story!! (Actually my third, but anyway, Oh my goodness!!!) I really can't believe this, I'm so incredibly scared. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out, okay, I think I'm fine now. This story is probably one of my favorites, out of the ones I've written. Okay, um here's an introductory thingy…

First of all, I must say that I am truly thankful to Craig Bartlett, Antoinette Stella, Steve Viksten, and so many others for creating and aiding in the creation of such interesting and unique characters and bringing them to television.

After reading and writing fanfiction for almost two years, I have seen how the writer can "tweak" the personalities of the characters we've all come to know and love (or hate): Lila has turned…evil (to say the least), Helga has been a cheerleader (I see this one less and less) and so on and so forth. So I feel the need to "tweak" a few characters a little myself, but rest assured, nothing drastic. So in the course of reading this story, please do not harm your computer while screaming, "THEY'D NEVER DO THAT!!!!!!" 

Hmm, I suppose it's time for me to start my story. Now, I first wrote this when I was in the 8th grade. So, I'll be making some major adjustments. Okay, read, READ I SAY!!!!!!

Chapter 1: Into the Night

"Get your parka."

Helga had heard that phrase several times too many over the past few years. You'd think she'd be used to it by now, but every time he uttered those words, his voice suddenly got deeper than usual, an acute gruffness that never presented itself in any other speech made by her father.

"What?", she said, quite aware of what she just heard, but still prolonging the moment. She sat up straight in the stiff green couch that haunted the living room of the three-story home. She turned, ready for the storm that was her father.

"You heard me. Grab your coat and get in the car."

Without a word, Helga made her way to the stairs. Suddenly, a chill struck her legs paralyzing every bone in her body. At the very top of the stairs was two very large suitcases, obviously filled to capacity, by the stretched lining. There they sat, idly at the top of the stairs, not moved to one side, just blocking the passageway to the upper level of the house. From the second step up, Helga contemplated the reasons for why her parents would just have suitcases-full suitcases out in the open. The excuses, now a flood, whirling and whizzing around in her head angrily, began to distort her thought process. Quickly she made her way to her room, her own vision blurred.

Upon entering, she found her room to be unusually cold. Turning on the only source of light in the confides of her room, she found her window open, causing the curtains to blow forward. Pushing down on the window pane, and locking it, Helga watched the streetlights outside her room flicker on and off. 

The only reasonable explanation was that they were moving. Wait, they were moving? Why hadn't she heard anything about this? Why would they move, anyway? Time seemed to go by all too quickly for Helga within her four walls. This was the only home she ever knew, the only home she wanted to know. She wanted to run downstairs in an angry fit and yell at her father for doing this to her. For making her leave her home, Hillwood, everything. 

Despite the denial that swam around in her head, she began to stuff clothes, books, anything important into a backpack, before Bob's blustery voice echoed up the stairs and down the hall.

"Hurry up!"

The backpack was somewhat heavy, despite the lack of personal belongings that Helga actually treasured, she managed to lift it. Turning around for what seemed a last glance at her room, she closed her door. And just like that with a hollow creek of the door, she was gone. 

In the car, Helga lost herself in the night sky. Mentally, she imagined saying goodbye to Phoebe and Arnold, the only two people she imagined would care she was leaving. She traced the outside of the crescent moon on the foggy window of the car. 

"Come on. Let's go.", said her father, lifting his own bags from the backseat.

Upon exiting the car, Helga gazed up at the blinking train station sign. In the station, there sat a man either waiting for his train, or sleeping and a curly haired Caucasian woman standing behind the ticket booth, obviously bored.

Welcome to the Hillwood Metro Train Station, how may I service you?", she said dully through the glass.

While Bob conversed quietly with the ticket-booth lady, Miriam came and sat down next to Helga on an identical blue chair, cold and uncomfortable. Bob eventually came over too, but not bothering to sit down. 

"Your mom and I are going to find someplace to eat.", he said, avoiding Helga's unsure gaze, still distressed over having to leave.

"We'll be right back sweetie.", Miriam said, planting an unusually motherly kiss on Helga's forehead. This obviously wasn't a good sign. 

It wasn't until 35 minutes later, that Helga remembered, her father forgot to give her a ticket…

TO BE CONTINUED…

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Please tell me how it was. I really don't want to go on writing a story that will only be a flop. You know how I love reviews!!!! Okay, that's about all, I know this is short, but a very trustworthy friend and author told me that length doesn't matter, so I won't focus on that. And I've come to realize that I do not take criticism as well as previously anticipated, so I'm also trying to work on that. Okay, hope you enjoyed it!!!! BYE!!!!!


	2. Maybe Memories

First of all, a big thank you to all my reviewer's (you guys are the best!!) Oh yes, and a special thank you to BellaMay76, who contributed more than she knows to the foundation of this story. (You'll see…) I'm sorry if everyone's a little (Gasp!) about the first chapter. I don't like writing sad stories, but it's not sad the whole way through. And yes, for all of the people who were like "They didn't just LEAVE her did they!!???", well…you'll find out. Read and reply!!!!! 

Jae B-Thank You so much! I don't know how I'd survive without your awesome reviews!!!! Thank You!!!!

lilsteves- don't be too sad, things get better for her, promise!

Renee- I will be posting the next chapter to Ruthless as soon as possible!!

?_?- Sorry if the first chapter was confusing!! This one will clear everything up!!

Blonde Cecile- Thanks so much for your awesome advice, it really helped. I seriously try not to say "said" as much in the following chapters.

kim-Thank you, I hope you like the second chapter!!

The J.A.M.- I really didn't want to have them get caught and go to jail (not that they don't deserve it…) but I figured I'd just leave them out altogether!!!

IttheGreat-Thanks, hope this one doesn't give you too many chills (hear twice is fatal!)

Starfaerie2398- don't be too mad at Bob, he's an idiot…he can't help it.

Gwynn- Thank you, my first reviewer!! And I realized I never answered your question: I haven't found work yet, after my horrifying and frankly boring telemarketing job, but I'm applying at Target sometime this week!!! Whoo!

Oh yes, and I don't own Hey Arnold, or the Yellowcard song "Back Home", or The Used song "Maybe Memories" 

Chapter 2: Maybe Memories

"Anyone home?? HELLO??"

"I gotta go…yes, I will, okay? Yes, bye.", stressed the petite blonde, eager to hang up the phone. She hurried to the door to find a relatively short brunette haired woman struggling to carry three very large paper bags filled with food through a rather narrow door. She lifted the bag, despite it's weight, and set it down on the immaculate cream-colored countertop.

"Anymore?", she asked, her tiny arms able to carry the entire supermarket if need be. Her accomplice, however, was not quite so resistant to large amounts of weight pressing down on just two thin limbs.

"Yeah", she panted, leaning on the counter and straightening her glasses. "A couple more."

In hearing so, the blonde hopped outside to the blue-green Dodge Minivan and began to unload the brown paper bags that littered to floors and seats of the van. 

"And can you pick up the mail when your done?", she heard from the house. She leaned a bag strategically in her left hip and opening the aged wooden mailbox. She lifted out a handful of envelopes and assorted things, and closed it, heading towards the house. She set the new bags next to the remnants of the old ones, disregarding the van still filled with groceries, and sifted through the mail.

"Anything good?"

"Um…", she replied. "Bill, Bill, Notice, oh look! We may have already won 100,000 dollars!", She piped up, sarcastically. Throwing the remainder of the mail aside, she began rummaging through the bags and putting things in their designated places. 

"Hey, there's one in here for you."

"Great. Another 'Thank You for submitting your work to our poetry anthology, but we just don't feel like publishing your crap'…", she said, smiling out of the side of her mouth. 

"No actually, it's…",

Just then, two shorter brown-blonde haired children made their way in the house, abruptly followed by pure, unadulterated NOISE!!!! 

"Hey, you guys!! Shut up!!!", she yelled, adding to the noise, rather than taking away from it. Oh well, anyone who lived with her for as long as they did knew, she was only quiet when she felt like it. And she rarely felt like it. Except when she thought of that fateful day five years ago. 

Yes, this was our Helga. It still is, just…older. After …that day, as she refers to it, she left to move to Vermont, with her Aunt Dee and her two crazy cousins. Uncle Frank (Aunt Dee's husband) had passed away a year before Helga came to stay, and helped her aunt deal with the loss, while her aunt helped her deal with her "loss".

Evidently, this is not the same Helga a lot of people knew back in Hillwood five years ago. On first arriving in Vermont, Helga was extremely shy. She did all she could not to draw attention to herself in any way, even with her relatives. In school, she was quiet, inconspicuous, almost invisible. But, as with anyplace you go, people are bound to find you. She'd managed to find a few close friends, who understood her situation, and instead of pitying her, helped her find life after the entire ordeal. Not only friends, Helga discovered a boy. A boyfriend. Never really forgetting about Arnold, she decided five years was more than enough time to move on. Her boyfriend, James, attended the Spaulding Academy for Boys, same as her cousins. Aunt Dee, no one called her by her real name, Dorothy, held education and academics in the highest priority. Helga on the other hand went to The Westport Academy for Girls. And as everyone within a 30 mile radius knew, all Westport girls, dated the Spaulding boys. 

After moving to Vermont, Helga never got up the nerve to call Phoebe. She did once, right after she arrived at her new home. No one was home, so she left a simple message:

"Hey, Pheebs. It's Helga. I have to leave, and I can't explain why. Just, remember that you have been the best friend I've ever had. I have to go. Bye.", she said, between the tears. She knew that it wasn't proper closure, but it was all she could bare for the time being. And as for Arnold, she missed him, almost as obsessively as before, when she first left. She was devoid of emotion for the longest time. But after a while, she found herself unable to truly obsess over something she couldn't very well see on a regular basis. She kept the sentimental objects, those of which she chose to take, but rarely saw them. She thought about it however, mostly when she was on the verge of sleep. She replayed the day over and over, no longer breaking out in tears because of it. She imagined what would happen had she really told anyone back home what happened, if she were to just go back in time and explain everything. But she could never do that, at least that's what she told herself. 

After the noise had suppressed, Helga's aunt handed over the plain white envelope, without reading whom it was from. That was another really good attribute about Aunt Dee. She was never one to pry into the personal business of others. She never got involved in gossip or the spreading of lies, feeling that if it were really her place to know about something, it would have revealed to her from the "horses mouth". People often confused Helga and Dee as mother and daughter. Dee was Miriam's sister, and Helga possessed many of her features, people would automatically assume they were mother and daughter. After a while, Helga didn't mind people's often misinterpreted assumptions. Dee was more of a mother than her own, after all. Her cousins, Nicholas and Bryan, also kept life…interesting. Nicholas was 14, a year younger than Helga, and Bryan was 12. 

"Who's it from?", asked Nick, coming out of the living area. He obviously did not inherit his mother's unconcerned attitude.

"Helga, are you alright?", she said, at Helga's immediate silence. Helga wasn't one to just shutup for no reason.

"It's a letter…from Olga."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Your sister wrote you? What'd it say?"

"I don't know yet, I haven't opened it yet.", Helga remarked, staring at the envelope that lay flat on her bed. 

"Well why not?"

Among the friends that Helga had come to know, Kirsten was probably most like her. Her fears were few and far between, and the ones she did possess very rarely if ever came to the surface. She was always there to give Helga the extra push she needed, even if she needed a bit of a push herself. So, evidently, she'd be the first person Helga would call after this. 

"I dunno, I'm just scared I guess.", she replied, retreating back into her shyness.

"Why'd she wait till now to write to you? It's been years.", Kirsten remarked over the phone, slightly more perturbed than Helga. 

"Well, right after Doug "left" her she started teaching underprivileged Inuit children in Alaska, and then moved to Zimbabwe.", Helga stated. She purposefully left out the Student Teacher incident, thinking it'd be best not to stir up the old memories of rubber pants and sheets (again). "I guess she'd been there since."

"Hmmm, I see. Well, you have two options. You can sit on your butt and stare at it, which is what I imagine you're doing right now, or you can open it.", she said into the phone. 

Both girls sat in silence over the phone, each waiting for the other to respond.

"Um, Kris…I'll call you back, okay?", she finally uttered.

"Bye…", she said, hesitating for a millisecond, then finally hanging up.

Before opening it, she decided to make sure it was "safe". On the front there was a stamp (of course) with a medley of flowers covering it( this was OLGA after all) and the phrase "Embrace the Season" written in the tiniest of print . The date was marked September 23rd, exactly one week ago. Her address was 627 Elkridge Drive, Hillwood. She was living back in Hillwood. After going over just about every detail she could possibly decipher after seeing only the outside, she decided the moment of truth was nigh. Taking a deep breath, she got the letter opener( that she conveniently grabbed out of her aunt's office as she dashed upstairs) and sliced open the top of the envelope and emptied it's contents. Without reading the actual letter, she stared at the pages. There were two of them, classic Olga stationary covered in flowers and butterflies against the pastel purple paper. Each word was written in the neatest, cleanest, most perfect handwriting imaginable. She'd opened the letter, now all she had to do was read it. 

(A/N: Do you guys wanna read it? Are you sure? Are you REALLY sure? Okay, I suppose…)

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iDear Helga,

It's sure has been a while hasn't it? I'm sorry I've done such a terrible job keeping in touch after so long. Even after leaving Africa, I wasn't really able to find you. But after hearing about what happened, I contacted the Family Outreach Program, and they led me straight to you. You must be at least 15 by now. Wow, 15 years old, you're practically grown up. I know you and I have never been on the best of terms, and I know now that it was partially my fault. But, I guess now we're all we've got. I'm sorry, here I am writing to you and I just keep going on and on. How's Vermont? I hear the mountains there stay beautiful year round. I was never really close to Aunt Dee, but I'm sure she's taking good care of you. No doubt you've made quite a few friends there, too. How's school? I certainly don't mean to bombard you with questions all at once, it's just been hard these past few years, not knowing where you are, or who's taking care of you or anything. I was wondering, maybe you'd like to come and visit me for a little while. You can stay as long as you like, I have my own apartment. It's nothing fancy, but you'll have your own room. Hillwood sure has changed a lot, there's new stores and people everywhere. I really would love to have you come, you could even attend the high school here if you want to. But if not, we can still keep in touch, My home phone number is (203) 749-9948. I'd be glad to hear from you. Please write back.

With Love,

Olgai

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That's all folks! 

U M

I know, I know, I should have added more but the next chapter is a MAJOR J P!

So, review, and I promise, this story will go on!!! Um, again a big thank you to all my reviewer's, your words really help. Okay, go, review, now!!!!! 

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	3. The Hardest Part of Leaving

Hello All!!! I'm back and better than ever. (Not really, but you don't really care do you? No, your just using me, you're all using me!!!! Sorry, I was watching Soap Opera commercials again, …) But anyways, I realize that I stopped kind of abruptly on the last chapter, but like I said, I wrote this quite a while ago, and I wasn't sure how I would refurbish the new additions to this chapter. So, sorry for that, and something else…I'm not quite sure at the moment. Oh well, Are you ready for the next chapter? Hope so, cuz here I go:

Oh yeah, And I don't own any of the following:

1) The Yellowcard Song "Back Home" 

2) Hey Arnold

3) Really, Really, REALLY bright fushia nail polish (It just seems like I'll need it sometime in the future!)

4) Enough prior knowledge to stop while I'm behind

Chapter 3: The Hardest Part of Leaving

She made the motion to get up. She'd planned it for the past 45 minutes. She was going to go downstairs, show Aunt Dee the letter, and let the rest fall into place. But after a little contemplation, it seemed as though the plan fell apart rather than together. What if Aunt Dee demanded that I stay here? It wouldn't be terrible to stay in Vermont, but it wouldn't be absolutely unbearable to go visit Olga. What if Kirsten is angry at me? What if she thinks I'm leaving her? And James! How would he take this? But wait, it's not _their_ decision to make, it's mine…but still, it'd be selfish of me to make a decision and not consider the effects it'd have on those around me. Sigh…

Okay, I just have to do this. I'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen? They can't put me on…on State arrest, where I can't leave Vermont without suffering from an electrical shock, or anything. But still…

These doubts flooded Helga's mind all the way downstairs, to the point that she could practically feel them leaking from her ears and onto the burgundy carpet that spread from the stairs down into the foyer. She gripped the letter in her fist, crunching the stationary paper and whitening her knuckles. 

"Aunt Dee?", she muttered, quieter than usual, into her aunt's office. She peered over the side of the office, not sure whether to enter or stand outside the door like an idiot. 

"Yes?", she replied, drawing out the word as if it were an elastic band. She knew why Helga was here, and more or less Helga knew she was waiting. 

"I want you to…, would you mind…, here.", she finally blurted out, handing over the letter. She collapsed in the rich, brown leather armchair that was directly centered in front of her aunt's desk. The chair was cold, uninhabited for much to long. She watched her aunt's eyes scan across the page over and over and then put the first page behind the second and begin scanning the page again. Her hazel eyes running from one side of the page to another made Helga nervous, causing her gaze to shift to the wooden legs of the chair. Just as she'd finished counting the lines on one leg of the chair, Dee spoke.

"Alright."

"Alright. What do you mean?", Helga asked, a little nervous that she may have been outsmarted by her own aunt. 

"Well, you came here for a reason.", she replied. 

"Well, I just… I wanted you to…I mean I didn't want you to…be angry.", she mumbled, almost whispering the last part.

"Why would I be angry?', she asked, standing up, ready to bestow a hug. 

'Oh great', Helga thought. 'I've switched her into Oprah mode.' After, staring at the floor for about 24 seconds, she rediscovered her voice. "I didn't want you to be mad if I decided to go.", she uttered. 

"Helga, you have to understand something. I could never be angry at you for wanting to spend time with your sister.", she remarked. 

For the first time that day, Helga looked into her aunt's eyes and saw how they looked back at hers. These were not the eyes of someone who would lie to her. These were the eyes of someone who wanted her to have whatever she needed to live as happily as possible. And with the life she'd been living, she could use all the happiness she could find. 

"So you think I should go?", Helga asked, on the very edge of anticipation and excitement.

"Yes! Of course I do!", she said, and in one swift motion, she came around the desk and embraced Helga, warm and tight.

"Thank you so much!! I'm so happy!!", Helga managed to say, between the hug. Helga couldn't have been happier, that is until…

"Why are you mad at me?!!!!!!",

"I should ask you the same thing!!!", Helga yelled back, twice as loud.

"Well, you're just going to up and leave, your probably not even going to bother to say goodbye are you?", Kirsten yelled, although with not as much force as Helga, but with a twinge of pain. 

"Of course I am! I'm not leaving for another three weeks. Why are you being such a baby??", Helga shouted, angered beyond belief.

"Maybe because my best friend is going to go off and leave me, for no reason!!"

Never before had Helga had such an insatiable urge to slap someone. Slowly she choked back her tears and replied. "Before you leave for school, what do you do?", she asked, still angry, but trying to control it.

"What? What are you talk-"

"You heard me! What do you do, before you leave for school?", Helga interrupted, not bothering to see if anyone was even staring. 

"I don't know.", she said. "I eat breakfast, and say bye to my mom and dad and then…", she began, realizing Helga's point exactly .002 seconds before her outburst.

"Exactly! I don't have a mom, and I don't have a dad, all I have is a sister, who's nice enough not to abandon me like everyone else has, and I'd think that my so called best friend would be happy for me, but I guess that's too much to ask!", she said turning around angrily before storming off. The school was just under a mile away, and she'd be there early anyway. But the bitter cold of early October soaked into her thin coat and mittens. In silence, she cursed at the Board of Education for making these stupid uniforms. The skirts were supposed to be long, but because of her height, even the largest size skirt, came up above her knees much more than the administration's would have liked. She tried to outsmart the weather by wearing biker shorts under her skirt, and high knee socks. The uniforms were not hideous, but they certainly weren't going to be on the cover of _Vogue _anytime soon_. _The jacket was a dark navy blue, that was long-sleeved and had the Westport Girl's Academy emblem on the left breast pocket. The skirt was the identical color intended to be exactly one inch above the knee. On purpose, she'd managed to find a scarf and mittens to match. 

"Need a ride?"

Helga looked to the left, pulling her woolen coat closer to her body. She peered through the barely rolled-down window at a raven-haired boy, man rather, sitting in the driver's seat of a shiny black Pontiac Sunfire, leaning over to the passenger smile. Helga offered a tiny smile, and climbed in the car, appreciative of the warmth it gave. She let her hand glide over the tip of her nose and across her cheek, trying to annul the remains of the tears that lingered on her face. James took due note of this and mustered up the courage to speak.

"Something ya wanna talk about?", he said, the car resuming motion.

Helga let out a deep breath and began explaining the trying situation. "…and now she thinks I'm "leaving her".", she finished, gesturing the quotation marks, for no real significance.

"Well, I can understand why she'd be upset.", he began, eyes still riveted in the road. 

"Exactly! That's why I wanted to tell her now, instead of just… leaving her out of the loop!", Helga huffed, then stopping abruptly. "What, may I ask, is so amusing about my dire situation? I really don't …I really don't see where the humor lies in this.", she tried to say, until she began laughing as well, not quite knowing what she was laughing at. 

"Your such a drama queen.", he replied, still chuckling. 

"I don't think there is anyway to over dramatize the state of absolute…okay, I'm a drama queen, so what?", she said, admitting defeat. 

"So, don't think so much about it, just give Kirsten a little space. She's just worried about you going away. She'll be fine in a few days.", he reasoned, placing his hand on hers. 

"Fine. I'll be nice.", Helga retorted, plastering a surly look of disdain on her face.

"That's my girl.", he said, leaning over and planting a peck on her slightly reddened cheek. "I'll see you after school."

"If Kirsten doesn't tear me apart by then…"

"She won't.", he reassured her.

"Bye", she said, exiting the car, and climbing the steps to her school. She turned halfway up the steps, just to see James' car disappearing behind a thick brush of trees. His school was within walking distance of hers, and he very well could have parked there and walked the rest of the way to school.

The halls of Westport Academy were lined with identical blue lockers, spaced apart only by doors, or trashcans or just empty space. The halls weren't "entirely" empty, which meant that she wasn't "entirely" late, but no bout a doubt it, Mrs. Collins would make a fuss out of it. 

She entered the classroom, everyone in their usual seat. The class was overall silent, despite the murmuring going on in the back of the classroom. From the voices, Helga could distinguish most of the people in the back, until Mrs. Collins began her loud tapping, used to get the classes attention.

"Class? Class!! May I have your attention please? Everyone, please take your seats and get out your Scarlet Letter books. We'll be discussing chapter eight, where we first see the connection between Roger Chillingworth, who in reality is Hester Prynne's husband, and-"

"Wait? Roger Chillingworth is Hester's husband? I don't remember reading that part." The comment came from Doreen McDonald, by far one of the simplest human beings Helga had ever come across. It took her until chapter 6 to figure out that Reverend Dimmesdale was Pearl's father. She began flipping through the book furiously, looking for the quote. Poor thing. She'd have to rely on that pretty face to get by…

"Yes, Chillingworth is Hester's husband.", Mrs. Collins said, knowing well it was too early in the morning to be dealing with this.

"But what happened to him? Where was he when Hester had the "A" planted on her chest?", asked another voice, from the same general area. This one was Brittany Harkins. She was in close camaraderie with Doreen. Shame.

"Well, the story behind it is that Hester and Roger were married in England and Hester was to come over to America and he was supposed to come later. But when he came, he was captured by the indigenous inhabitants of the area." Mrs. Collins was a walking Thesaurus. 

"So she just left him there? That's horrible.", Kirsten said, looking slyly over at Helga whose eyes widened at the sound of her voice.

"Well, in those times, it was customary for the women to travel to America, and for their husbands to come ove-"

"She didn't just 'leave' him there. She probably left because he provoked her.", Helga retorted, twice as angrily.

"Well, actually-", Mrs. Collins began, only to be interrupted again.

"Provoked! The lady leaves her husband halfway around the world, and then waits ten minutes for him to follow her and when he doesn't, she goes and has a baby with the Reverend!", Kirsten screamed.

"Your being so stupid about all of this! It's just a book!! It's not that big a deal!!", Helga yelled back. At this point, the entire class, including Doreen and Brittany, were beyond confused.

"Girls!", Mrs. Collins shouted, tapping on her desk with her pointer for the second time that day. "I will have no more screaming in my classroom, understand? Now, if you would like to schedule a debate on the content of The Scarlet Let-"

"No.", Helga said, looking to the blank white wall, angrily. That was the end of that little "discussion".

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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"Anything interesting happen today?", James asked, taking a seat next to Helga in the outdoor eating area near her school. The day had brightened up a bit from the morning, the sun slipping in and out of the clouds. The weather still showed signs of fall, the trees clinging to dead and lifeless leaves, and the air, slicing through itself and anything in it's path. 

"Hmm, let me see", she began, the sarcasm already beginning to take shape on her lips. "My best friend hates me and is trying to use The Scarlet Letter to inflict as much guilt on me as humanly possible!!", she said, smiling the most deceitfully untruthful smile that may have ever been formed.

"Do you want me to talk to her?", he asked, putting his arm around her. 

"No, if we do work out these (sigh) differences, it's gonna be between me an her.", she said, standing up. "I gotta go."

"Bye"

Helga began down the walkway that led to the school, staring at the ground. She stepped over the small patches of snow that lingered on the ground, not really going anywhere, just walking. At once, she came to a complete stop, shivering there in the middle of a grassy opening, and whispered through the salty streams that glistened down her cheeks, past her chin, and on to the frost covered ground: "I wanna go home."

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Okay, that is ALL! No more, ever, for the rest of my life!!! Just kidding!!! Sorry it took TWO weeks to get this up. It seems like I get done with one thing, and another gets shoved in my face! I actually have a final on The Scarlet Letter, and I haven't even finished it!! Oh and guess what!!!!! For all you guys who care, and even those who don't…I GOT A JOB!!!!! I'm so happy!! Okay, it's not telemarketing, but I'm still in sales!!!! So, don't be mad if my posts aren't as frequent, I'll be working (that sounds so cool coming from me!!) Okay, enough babble from Antoinette, review!!!

Antoinette J 


	4. After Another

Oh my good-golly gosh!!!!!! You guys, I'm so incredibly…I just…okay, let's just get to it. There's no real explanation for what happened. It was an honest mistake. That, the thing you were reading was an upload error on my part. That was, in fact a story I was going to put up (it was already uploaded) after my completion of "Ruthless". And please, please, please understand that I practically bawled in World Civ.!!!!! (I was supposed to be researching Moderate Socialism, or Communism, or something. But a huge apology to Professor Rose Thorn, Gwynn, Demile, and anyone else who may have reviewed to that!! Please don't be mad at me, and please don't stop reading my story!!!!

AGAIN, I AM SORRY!!!!!!!!!

I learned something! And I'm going to share it with all of you! Are you ready? Good here it is: In the Season 5 Episode "The Journal", Grandpa asks Arnold if he knows what his mother's name "Stella" means. But he should have asked me, because I know!!!! Stella means Evening Star. So if you ever happen to pass Alex Linz on the street, tell him this. TELL HIM I SAY!!!!

My name is Craig, and I DO own Hey Arnold, and I DO have a…no mother, I'm not crazy, I am Craig! I AM!!! Why won't you believe me?? Who are those guys? Hey, I…I don't think this jacket is my size!! Hey, that's my, OW! OUCH, you're hurting me!!! I can't move!!!! HELP!!!! (ha ha ha ha ha…)

Chapter Four!!! Are you ready for it? You better be. Just kidding! Okay, Chapter Four, here we go:

Chapter 4: After Another

"Ladies and Gentleman, we may be experiencing some turbulence. We will be landing in one hour, which is four o'clock AM. Sorry for any inconvenience caused, and thank you for flying Airway International."

Helga was relieved that the stewardess had finally stopped talking. Her voice was high and syrupy and much to loud. From the moment she began to speak, Helga first though that there was something wrong with the microphone she was using. Before long, she realized that this "ear-pollution" echoing throughout the plane was her voice.

'Four o'clock?', Helga thought, borderline paranoia. 'What if she isn't there? What if she doesn't recognize me? What if I don't recognize her?' She began taking deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. She reverted to her bag and pulled out headphones and thought about everything imaginable. Aunt Dee, James, Vermont, even liquid soap. (A/N: I mean, how do they make it? Do they just melt bars and bars of soap? And if they do wouldn't it just solidify when they put it in the bottles?) But in the forefront of her mind was Kirsten and her going away party. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Flashback~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She stared. And stared. And stared. And stared. 

The suitcase was filled to the brim. Had she packed so much as one more sock, the seams would have busted. No, it seems as though there was nothing left to pack. 

"Knock, Knock?"

Helga turned, happy to see a smiling face in her doorway. 

"Hello. Does my aunt know you're here?", she said, leaning against her bed. Most of the time, Aunt Dee supervised James' visits from the living room. 

"How do you think I got in the house? C'mon, I have something to show you.", he said, grabbing her hand, not quite giving her a chance to answer. 

"What?", she asked, absentmindedly.

"Just c'mon.", he urged, practically prying her of the vanilla colored carpeting of her room and dragging her downstairs.

"What is…", she began to say, before turning a very dark shade of raspberry, and in turn burying her face in James' navy blue T-shirt. It was a little too late for everyone to scream surprise, but they did anyway. 

"Thank you,…", Helga managed to say, down the stairs. She smiled at all the multi-colored balloons and streamers that hung over the door and the opening to the kitchen and living room. On the kitchen counter sat a large sheet cake that read in pale yellow frosting "We'll Miss You Helga!" 

Altogether, the party went by pretty quickly, but right from the beginning, Helga's eyes were scanning the crowd. There were the usual people there, neighbors, friends of the family, even Ms. Davenport from the Grocery Store, who actually gave Helga her first real job as a bagger, the same one she quit 4 months later (A/N: Now why does this sound familiar…). But all the while, Helga continued to search the living room, the backyard, the front yard, and every square inch in between for a that bouncy head of brown hair.

"Helga? Can you go upstairs and grab a towel for me?", Aunt Dee asked.

"Sure.", Helga said, setting her 12 oz, red cup on the table and starting towards the stairs. As she was halfway up the stairs, the door bell rang. "I'll get it.", she called to everyone, despite the fact that no one was really listening. 

"Hello?", she said opening the door, as if she were answering a phone. 

"Hey…"

"Hi…", Helga said, shyly. Even though she'd been looking for Kirsten for the past forty-five minutes, she hadn't exactly planned what she would say to her.

"I just dropped by to give you this.", she said, holding out a purple wrapped box, and conveniently avoiding Helga's eyes. "…and to say that, I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too.", she said, discreetly gesturing her inside and taking the package.

"For what? You didn't do anything wrong.", she assured her. "So when are you leaving?", she asked after a minute. She didn't want Helga to think that just because they had apologized that she wanted her gone right away.

"Two days."

"I'm gonna miss you. Don't forget that, okay?", she said, embracing her.

"And I'm gonna miss you. But I'm not going that far away. I could probably walk there if I wanted.", she said. It was a relief to have a little less pressure on trying to reconstitute a friendship. Now the "festivities" could begin… 

Passing by her aunt, she remembered her previous errand. "Oh, Aunt Dee, what'd you need that towel for?", she asked, thinking that there was a spill or something.

"Huh? Oh nothing, I saw Kirsten's mom drop her off in the driveway, and I wanted you to be near the door.", she grinned.

~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%~%

"That party was the best.", Kirsten said, throwing several empty cups and crumpled napkins into a large black trash bag. 

It was close to ten at night and the last guest had finally retreated back to their home. The result of so many people packed into one place was precisely what Helga, Kirsten, and Aunt Dee were forced to clean up. The house wasn't too trashed, but considering the amount of people who "stopped by", there was a mess that needed to be tended to. 

"Thank You, for everything.", Helga said, on her knees, after scrubbing fruit punch out of the beige carpet of the living room. The last thing she wanted on her last day(s) at home was for her aunt to think she didn't appreciate these past five years, which she did. She'd already promised both of them (Kirsten and Aunt Dee) that she'd call them as soon as she settled in., but thinking about how much she'd decided to take along with her, the promise itself may have been delayed more so than that of her plane. 

It wasn't long before that, that Aunt Dee had ordered her plane ticket. For the first time since Nick and Brian literally killed her 16th century grandfather clock last May, Helga listened helplessly as her aunt yelled. Long and Loud.

"No, I'm afraid you do not understand!!!! Are you telling me this is the only flight going to New York that you have available??"

"Yes…"

"That is ludicrous!!!! What kind of aunt would I be if I allowed my niece to ride a plane at one o'clock in the morning!!!", she screamed, into the phone.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but that's all we ha-"

"Well," she began, her tone increasing little by little. "Rest assured that these unreasonable hours of transport are not healthy for young children.", she said, just before hanging up. She returned to the kitchen sink, diving her hand into the lukewarm water, and after grabbing a green dish towel, began to scrub away at a pot furiously.

At this point, Helga would have mustered up enough courage to say "It's okay", or "Don't worry about it", but then had to reconsider that her aunt wasn't one to be easily told to "calm down". The flight to New York wouldn't be too long. They lived less than four hours away and on the plane, it probably wouldn't have taken more than two hours. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Helga smiled out of the window at all of this. She turned to face the front, and snatched an airline magazine from the unoccupied seat in front of her. The magazine Airway Shopping, featured a bunch of stuff that people would probably never need and if they did, they either had a lot of time or a lot of space. The best part was that you could only order the products while your in the air. The instructions read to pick up the (oversize) airplane phone that was distributed one to every four people and call one of those annoying 800 numbers and order what ever you liked. Helga, bored with the magazine by the third page, slowly fell asleep as she read half-heartedly about a limited addition flower presser.

"Excuse me, we're about to land.",

Helga blinked herself awake (if that makes any sense) and looked back at the red-headed stewardess that was obviously, waking her up. It was a nice gesture altogether. The Airline could very well have let the glass shattering voice stewardess wake them up, or just have let the pain of them having their ears popped send an alarm through their brain. But then again, what was the difference? There were a handful of people on the plane, besides her. So few that she probably had two or three rows where she was the sole inhabitant. The rest of the passengers were either being woken up or still sleeping.

The first few seconds off the plane were cold, but she had to remember that is was still late fall, and that her sister lived in New York, not Houston. Much like the airplane, the airport was half empty. Helga looked around, still barely awake. She began to think Aunt Dee was right. Standing around in an airport could be seriously hazardous to her mental health. She began to scan the room, looking for anyone resembling Olga. Unfortunately, she had no earthly idea what Olga looked like. Helga herself had changed vastly since her last time in New York. Helga felt that Olga, on the other hand, while not necessarily _old_, was too old to change. Drastically anyway. In her slightly naïve mind, Olga had a closet of black vests, green plaid skirts, white knee socks and plain brown boots, all tying her "oh so perfect" look together. And that was precisely what she looked for. Unfortunately, not one in the room fit that description. So, instead of sitting down and waiting until halfway through forever, she began to walk around inconspicuously, and "inspect" every tall thin blonde in the room. She stood, her bags at her side, next to a curly blonde haired woman, but walked away after noticing that she held the hand of a short curly haired girl. Near a gift shop, she pretended to be interested in tequila glasses with "New York" printed on them as she tried to get a glimpse of a tall blondes I.D. tag on her suitcase. Common sense came into play here when she realized that if this were Olga, she certainly wouldn't be carrying a suitcase around with her. 

Disappointed, she walked out of the gift shop, dragging her bags along with her. Just as she was about to sit down and think about how on earth she'd ever find Olga, she heard a loud voice come over the intercom of the airport.

"WILL A MISS…HELGA PATAKI PLEASE REPOT TO THE FRONT DESK NEAR GATE 23. I REPEAT HELGA PATAKI PLEASE REPORT TO THE FRONT DESK AT GATE 23."

Helga looked up, a little taken back by the voice, but then realized that Olga must have paged her from the front desk. She looked up at the sign with bright white letters above her head that read GATE 23. She stood and promptly walked to a map on the opposing wall. Form the sight on the map, and certain landmarks she was forced to identify, such as the bathroom, next to the trashcan, next to the phones, next to the vending machine, that was right next to the front desk. She decided then to walk straight ahead until she hit a bathroom, then a trashcan, and so on. But before, she could even find that, she found a vending machine, situated right next to where she had been sitting. Making her way back to the map, she found the worn out sticker that read : YOU ARE HERE. Dumbfounded, she looked, and just above that she found in tiny letters FRONT DESK. The whole ordeal left her rather perturbed, which caused her to yell out.

"I am at Gate 23!!!", she said, resuming her stance near the front gate. She looked around for some sign of Olga, while calmly explaining herself to t he woman behind the counter. "My name was called over the intercom thingy, and I'm looking for someone, but I don't thin-"

"Right here."

~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

No more!!!!! Was that a cliffhanger as well? I'm not quite sure these days…Oh and good news!!! I'm not sick anymore!!!! I cough every once and a while, and when it's really cold (everyday!) I _feel_ sick, but I'm not!!!!! Sorry if this chapter is soooo short!!! It seems as though "Ruthless" got the long chappie this time, but make no mistake, "Back Home" will compensate for it!!! Oh yes, and even more (Hey Arnold related) good news!!!! It's hard to explain, just be telling you but, here goes:

I'm helping a friend of mine paint her daughter's playroom (in their basement) and her kids come up with the idea of painting cartoon characters on the walls. The youngest one (I think she's three) wants to paint Nemo, and Spongebob, and all these other stuff. But the older one (whose almost seven) knows that I love (love, love, love, love, love ) Hey Arnold and tells her mom we should put Helga on the wall!!!! Now, at the moment, my insides are jumping and screaming, but their mom says, " No, we can't put Helga on the wall."

So naturally, at this point, I'm practically 6 feet under, until she says: We might as well put Arnold and Helga on the wall. Anti (that's my nickname…stop laughing!) do you have any pictures?" 

Again, at this point, my heart has jumped out of my chest and is flopping around on the floor!!! So, even thought his isn't _as_ important as say, the release of the Jungle Movie, it's good news to me!!!! Okay, enough of my babble!!!! Thank you for reading!!! 


	5. Back Somewhere

First of all, thank you guys **SO **much for your absolutely life-affirming reviews!!!! (Insert sarcasm here) Really, how would I live without you??? There won't be a whole lot going on in this chapter (more in the next), it's mostly just descriptions from Helga's POV (not really) but, whatever. Okay, Chapter 5.

Oh, and a forewarning, sorry if anyone hates my choice in movies. I'm a sucker for romantic comedies!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

****

Chapter 5: Back Somewhere

"Living with me, I don't think it would be so bad,

This is the first time this year that I'm not going to make you mad,

I'm tired of my conscience always telling me to stop slipping in, 

But I can't waste a second on trains that will never begin."

Forgot the Name of The Song By: NewFound Glory

Dear Olga, 

How are you? I'm okay, I guess. Can't wait to see you. Until I do, I guess I'll have to play little sister to this…this person who is going around telling people she's you. It's the strangest thing really, she wears jeans and makeup, and drives a Honda. Frankly, you did a terrible job picking someone to impersonate you. She's not terrible, just not you. In fact she's quite the opposite. When I first met her, I thought that there was some other Olga Pataki wandering around here, obviously freshly escaped from her padded room in the insane asylum. Oh well, as long as she doesn't try to hack me to death in my sleep, I should be fine. 

Until you return, 

Helga

Helga couldn't help but record this. It seemed like a pivotal moment in the developing continuation of this new life she was embarking on. The woman she'd encountered was definitely not Olga. Olga Pataki she was not. There was no other way to solidify the fact. Someone had duct taped Olga in a closet somewhere. Either way, it seemed as though having Olga turn out to be someone she least expected, was a nice little addition to the inevitable events someone seemed to have predestined for her. 

She stopped writing for a moment to look around her room. Her room. The walls were white and bare. There were a few spackled areas of the walls where someone had obviously nailed something to the wall, and attempted to hide it later. Her bed was a twin, which was expected. Had it been any larger, it may have taken up too much of the room. It was covered with a matching white comforter, something you'd find in the Martha Stewart section of a JCPenny department store. She'd thought back to the airport and the rather unusual ride to her new home.

Their first encounter didn't turn out anything like how Helga imagined it. Come to think about it, Helga hadn't really thought about what her initial reaction to Olga would be. She knew it wouldn't be anything like their previous "reunions", which usually found Helga slouched in a corner, watching Olga play "The Minute Waltz" for the thirty billionth time in one day. This time, from Olga's letter's anyway, it seemed as though the attention would be equal on both sides of the spectrum, each wanting a glimpse into the life of the other. Reciprocal Attention. The best kind. 

No doubt, she wasn't completely bewildered by her first sight of Olga. It certainly wasn't the Olga that resided in half of her memories of this place. Olga still held a constant smile, like a Barbie, only new and pretty and fresh out of the box. And yet, she had something a Barbie couldn't possibly posses. Her smile, instead of being plastered on as a defense mechanism (much like those Helga would present in such a situation) was welcoming and comforting, like a place you don't remember being to but remember the feeling of being there. And even from there, Olga changed more. 

She hadn't changed too much, but the slight change wasn't too dramatic either. Her hair just barely grazed her shoulder, but she didn't seem to have gotten any taller. But then again, Helga had. Her attire was…that of, well, a normal person. She wore jeans, and a blouse, and a denim jacket. Two of which, Helga had NEVER seen even in Olga's closet, let alone on her. And if this didn't scare her enough, she'd probably packed an identical denim jacket.

As long as she was coming to( and later living in) wherever this place was (It was hard to tell at four twenty-seven in the morning) Helga decided that she might as well spill as much inspiration on paper before more bizarre events took place and evicted the ones that had only been there for exactly thirteen minutes. She walked, more like crawled, in fear of waking Olga who she doubted was even asleep, over to her backpack and pulled out a few pieces of loose leaf paper and quickly scribbled down a few words that would spark the inspiration that would keep her awake until she was ready to properly put them on paper. She changed into her pajamas, as best she could in a strange room, and crawled under the white comforter that Olga had put on her bed (that went so perfectly with the cream colored carpet) and tried to sleep. Despite her longing for the land of the rested, sleep was anywhere but here. 

The next morning, Helga awoke late, in a room she obviously didn't recognize. Oftentimes, when she was on the shores of extreme exhaustion, she remembered little about the past few hours. Eventually, memory caught up with her and she reeled back from…she searched the room for a clock. She figured she'd buy one later. Rather drowsily, she flopped out of bed (after several attempts, which resulted in her just turning back over and pulling the covers closer to her chin) and unzipped the largest suitcase on the floor. In her room, along with a bed, nightstand and wavy-looking ivory carpeting, that she just couldn't get over, were two drawers and a decent sized closet. She knew beforehand that Olga was a being of order and arrangement, and because of which, Helga vowed to keep all of her things neatly organized and in it's proper place at all times. Judging by the run-of-the-mill sized room that it was, she didn't think it'd be too hard to keep clean. But then, she began to think back to the first day of being at Aunt Dee's house, and making the same vow. As she unfolded her clothes from the suitcase, and folded them back up again before putting them away, she tried to focus solely on last night. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As Olga directed her through the frigid parking lot, Helga had half a brain to ask her if her eyes were still blue, or if she smoked, or when her birthday was. And driving home, Helga, instead of sitting on the front seat of a tacky blue and pink flowered convertible, sat on the passenger side of a rather attractive Honda something or other. Her eyes, as indecisive as her brain, couldn't decide whether to stare out of the window at the metamorphosis that was Hillwood, or that which was Olga. 

"What happened to you?", Helga finally blurted, regretting the question, but wanting to know nonetheless. 

Yup, this was definitely Olga. Her laugh was like one of those little bells they put in baby toys, by far one of the best sounds on earth. "Why? Do I look different?", she said, as if she'd been like this her entire life. 

"Yeah you look different! You sound different, You dress different…are your eyes still blue?", she asked, the second of her sinful questions eventually surfacing. 

"Are yours?"

"Yeah…okay, really, what happened?", Helga asked again, now enraptured. Maybe these next few months wouldn't be terrible. 

She stayed silent for a moment before truly answering. It was quite a transition to undergo, and she'd never really had to explain it. "I got out of college, and realized the world didn't need me to be perfect. Here we are."

Up the stairs, Olga described her entire apartment, including Helga's living quarters. It was evident she was proud to have a little place of her own. "…Drew on the other hand, is constantly making fun of it because nothing matches."

"Drew?", Helga said, skipping a few stairs to catch up. Her interest was now hooked.

"My boyfriend.", Olga said. Helga could practically hear Olga blushing. "Ya ready?", she said, hand on the doorknob. 

Helga's nervous gaze must have been enough because she twisted the knob and within a split-second, Helga found herself standing in Olga's apartment. Her eyes darted from one thing to another, not sure what to focus on first. The focal point of the living area was probably the ivory couch and matching recliner. Helga couldn't picture Olga using a recliner, she always came across as a "sit up straight, never slouch", kinda person, the kind Mrs. Collins would have died to have in ALL her classes. Back to the living room, she spotted a glass coffee table with several issues of some Health Magazines that Helga had never read, Healthy Living or something. Obviously, Olga didn't mind Helga exploring her home, because Helga walked right into the kitchen without protest. 

In the kitchen, much like that of the living area, everything was perfectly neat and immaculate. From the snow colored refrigerator in the corner to the jet black stove and countertop, it seemed like this house was as perfect as Olga herself. Somehow, the dining room was connected to the kitchen, but had a "wall", if you could call it that, that separated them. Olga must have noticed her fascination with the oak table and chair set, as she ran her fingers over them, because she finally decided to speak. 

"You like?"

"This whole house is gorgeous. It looks like something out of a magazine, or something.", Helga said, zoning out and forgetting where she was for a moment. She finally snapped back into reality when Olga asked if she wanted to see the room that would become hers. And that's where she woke up the next morning. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She wasn't sure what to do as of now. She could just walk around in her pajamas, but Olga may not have appreciated her sister gallivanting around in her New York apartment in her pajamas. Despite this, she cracked the wooden door of her room, and walked down the paneled hallway. The floor was wood finished and cold against Helga's bare feet. She turned into the dining room to see Olga sitting and drinking coffee. She didn't look directly at her, and in turn, said good morning to the floor.

"Morning. Want some?", she asked, lifting her mug a few inches. 

Helga was about ready to rewind the past fourteen seconds, pause, then play. Most times she had to literally pry some coffee out Aunt Dee's hands, and after finally getting it, being forced to listen to every bad thing about young people drinking coffee. It stunts your growth, It makes your teeth yellow, blah, blah, blah. And here was Olga, literally shoving milligram after milligram of caffeine down her throat. Life is so good.

Before even giving her a chance to answer, Olga had already gotten up and started pouring her a mug from the coffeemaker in the kitchen. Helga figured she'd just overlooked it last night on her own personal tour. She sat down across from Olga's empty chair while her sister walked around in the kitchen, getting this and that. 

Needless to say, she let the words reel around in her head a few times. She had a sister. Of course, she'd had a sister for the past fifteen years, but there's a difference between having a sister, and needing a sister. As of this very moment, Helga depended solely on Olga. Before, Helga only needed two people in her life. Herself, and her conscience. And Aunt Dee, of course. Aunt Dee was always there, and in more ways than one, she really did need her. But for the most part, up until now anyway, Helga was independent. 

"Cream and sugar?", she said, now back in her chair, scooting the cream and container of sugar towards her. Helga muttered a thanks and began sprinkling sugar in her coffee and taking tiny sips. She didn't want to pour gallons and gallons of milk and sugar in her coffee like every other teenager who'd never had enough of it to brag about. The coffee was hot and bitter when it met her tongue, but she didn't show it. 

"I've got a full day planned.", she said, filling the void before it could properly mature. "We're going to register you at school, and then go shopping, and I don't know, what do you wan tot do?", she asked, non-chalantly.

The question all together took her by more than surprise. She wasn't used to people asking her what she wanted to do. Her day normally consisted of doing 1) What was required of her, 2) What she was forced to do and 3) What she did because of routine. 

"Umm…", she stalled. What did she want to do? Something that didn't require a lot of money (Aunt Dee had given her some cash, and for some inane reason, trusted her with a credit card, but for emergencies only), and something she didn't need an I.D. for. "I don't know…", she stammered. "Watch some movies, or something?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, if that's what you wanna do. We can stop by Blockbuster and rent some movies.", she smiled. This was the last thing Helga expected to hear. But before long they were both dressed, and in the car. 

"So, what's the name of the high school?", Helga asked, this time being the one to trigger the conversation. She sat, again, in the front seat of a shiny Accord, only this time focusing on Hillwood during the day.

"West Hillwood High School", Olga said. Short, sweet, and simple. 

No doubt this had to be Olga's alma mater. No one could spit out names of public schools unless they were a principal, were on Jeopardy seven-billion times, or had a lot of time on their hands.

"What's it like?", Helga asked, actually curious. She was always naturally inquisitive, but after spending 6th to most of 10th grade in a private school full of girls in tacky royal blue uniforms, it's understandable that she'd be interested. 

"It's been years since I've been there. Almost 10 years I think. It's nice I guess, for the most part.", she said, still focusing on the road. 

"What do you mean?", she asked. 

"Well, I didn't have the best high school experience.", she replied, looking a little sullen, but still keeping her eyes riveted on the road. 

"What?!", Helga said, practically screaming. "How could you have a bad high school experience? You were…"

"Perfect. Yeah, well people only like the thought of perfection. High school was miserable. There wasn't a day I didn't get teased to death.", she replied, blinking quickly, probably trying to erase what trace of tears may have formed.

"Wow.", Helga said, unable to fully grasp the concept of Olga being teased, or, worse yet, not enjoying school. Even though Olga probably was the pride of every teacher, if not the entire school, she was more than likely also the envy of every other kid.

"Here we are", she piped up, pulling into the parking lot of the school. Stepping out of the car, Helga looked up at the humungous building that spanned about three football fields at least. The outside was built to look older than it may have actually been, with paneled windows and tall doors. The front building had a bunch of steps leading up to the doors, but Olga ignored that door, and went in through some other door on the side. Helga followed, not quite sure where she was going. The side door led right into the main office, where Olga waltzed right up to the school secretary. 

"Hello, how may I help you?", said the lady behind the desk, looking up and smiling a wide, white smile.

"I'd like to register my sister.", Olga stated.

"Well, you'll have to fill these out first.", She replied, handing Olga about five pages of forms, expanding from health papers, to reduced lunch applications. Olga made sure to fill them out so that Helga could see and confirm the information. After exactly 42 minutes and six forms, Olga and Helga finally removed themselves from the uncomfortable chairs of the main office, and back up to the secretary's desk. The woman (her name tag read Mrs. Connelly) tapped away at her computer for a minute, and looked back at Olga. 

"Alright, and when will she be starting?", she asked.

Helga looked at Olga, expecting her to say "As soon as possible." Great, she'd been here for just south of 12 hours, and she was already being sent away to a mental prison. There were long windows on one end of the office, that faced a hallway of the school. It was in the middle of a Tuesday, but Helga figured there were classes going on, since the halls were empty. She and Olga weren't the only ones in the office right then. There was another girl, long brown hair, with no restraint, that hung over a large portion of her face. She happened to look up at the same time and trade the "Universal Hello", a small, discreet smile, no teeth intended. 

Olga eventually got finished with Mrs. Connelly, and walked over to Helga. She handed her two slips of paper. One was her school schedule, and the other was some form she had to give to her homeroom teacher when she started. 

"When am I starting?", Helga asked, on their way back to the car. She was almost certain she'd be starting school in the morning, but it never killed anyone to ask.

"Thursday. I figured you might want a day off to relax. Kinda like your last day of summer.", she said, smiling. 

"Thanks." This definitely wasn't Olga…or was it? She was always the one to initiate trying to get closer to her. Maybe this was just another plan to get her to stay longer.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shopping for Helga was never easy. At borderline 16, she was currently strattling 5'7. It was hard enough to find pants for her long legs, but harder still was it to find tops for her extended torso. She told Olga that she'd brought clothes from home and that Aunt Dee had provided her with sufficient funds, but Olga insisted on getting her new clothes. 

"Just pick out whatever you like.", Olga said, filing through rows and rows of movies. Olga had already been holding three movies, and more than likely plotting her fourth. 

"I'm telling you now, your gonna hate all of these.", Helga said, holding one tape, and putting another away, only to pick it up again. "I wanna see yours first."

Turns out they had more or less the same taste in movies. Helga left the store with only two movies, while Olga topped her with four. Olga had originally had five, but Helga insisted that they'd both seen "Charlie's Angels" too many times. Plus, Helga had already picked out _Ever After_, _Riding In Cars With Boys_, and Olga had picked out _The Wedding Singer_. Anymore Drew Barrymore films would have been overdoing it.

"I'll get the popcorn started, and you pop in a movie.", Olga said, heading into the kitchen, already rummaging through the cabinets. It was uncanny how Olga had just opened up her home to this girl, who was more or less a complete stranger, and her sister at the same time. 

"Can I call Aunt Dee first?", Helga asked, just to be sure. The last thing she wanted was for Olga to get angry at her for using the phone without permission. 

"Sure. It's right over here.", she replied, gesturing to the cordless phone on the counter of the kitchen. 

Helga walked forward and dialed the number to her former residence. She listened to the ring tone until a voice interrupted. 

"Hello?"

"Hey Nick. Put Aunt Dee on the phone."

"It's Bryan. Sheesh, you've barely been gone a whole day and you've forgotten us!"

"Shutup and give her the phone.", Helga said. She heard Bryan's faint voice call to her aunt in the backround, and the sound of footsteps.

"Helga, that you?"

"Hey. Miss me yet?", she asked, smiling into the phone.

"Yes. How are things?", she asked, genuine concern in her voice.

"Everything's good. You wanna talk to Olga?", she asked, glancing backwards. Olga had just pulled a bag of popcorn from the white microwave, and was probably more than willing to take the phone.

"Sure.", she replied, as Helga handed the phone over to Olga. Helga decided to start on the popcorn and attempt to listen to Olga's end of the conversation from the living room. Mostly Olga was replying to something her aunt said, or answering a question about Olga or herself. "Yeah, she's fine", or "Of course we are", were probably the most frequently used statements made. She finally ended the "chat", with a simple "Okay, bye Dee." 

Helga painted an unusual look on her face. She was never able to call Aunt Dee or any other adult (in her presence, anyway) by their first name. But Olga was essentially 11 years older than her, and didn't necessarily have to follow the same exact rules, as would that of a 15 year old. 

"Ready?", Olga asked, smiling and plopping down on the couch next to her. 

'Just about…', Helga said, mentally.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ta Da!!!! I'm not sure how I feel about this chapter. When I started it, I was in love with it!!!! But towards the end, it was clear, that I was making up for a lack of planning. Oh well, if you really hate it, that'll just make me work harder on the next one. See, we all win! Oh who saw PARTY WAGON ??? It was so cool! It even looked like Hey Arnold. And the little sound effects…HA all the way!! Ha, Ha, Ha, I made a rhyme!!!!!! On time, counting dimes, eating limes, it's not a crime!! Hehehehehehe! Okay, that's enough, please review!!!!!

BYE!!!!!!!


	6. Time For An Alias

Oh my goodness! I was so scared when I went to check my reviews for chapter 5. Okay, I'm in the library, and I decide to divert my attention from _Our Town _(to tell the truth, my attention was never really directed at it) to my reviews for the previous chapter. One review, I believe it was from Professor Rose Thorn, began with (I'm not quite sure if this is exactly how it goes) "This story is really terri- But a really big pop up gets in the way, and I can't see the rest of the review. In my naïve mind, I automatically think it says "This story is really terrible." So, I can't seem to move the pop up or delete it, so I have to get off of the Internet, go back on, Sign in to Fanfiction.net, and come to find out, it said, terrific, not terrible. I can see the headlines now: **Sixteen Year Old Dies Of Heart Attack In Maryland High School Library!!!! **That'd be just perfect! On with the story!!!!

Oh yeah, and this is a L O N G chapter so unless you have a lot of time, you might want to hold on to this for a while, I've got a lot to cover!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold, or Helga's "name" in this chapter (All rights belong to BellaMay76, except the owning Hey Arnold part…that belongs to Craig Bartlett. Unless there's something your not telling me BellaMay76!!)

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Chapter 6: Time for an Alias

"Wake up, wake up, Helga.", Olga whispered softly, with the intention to wake Helga, but not necessarily slap her out of slumber so inadvertently. 

Helga eventually arose from her nap, but for the most part, still very much asleep. "Did I miss the part where Leonardo Di Vinci said the "s" word?", she asked, talking out of her sleep.

"Yes, and it is time for bed.", Olga uttered, with the tiniest bit of laughter in her voice. 

Helga stood up, and groggily slumped over into her room, and changed into her pajamas without much thought. In no time, she was buried in the comforter and fast asleep.

Earlier the next morning, before the sun had barely had a chance to peek it's head from over the horizon, Helga awoke abruptly, to the sound of someone moving around, then a door opening. Her first assessment of the situation was that she and her sister were being robbed. She barely lived here for 24 hours, and here someone was robbing her. She immediately hopped out of bed, after digging herself out of the enormous comforters, and walked up the hallway silently. Obviously, whoever this was, they were not very stealth, seeing as how much noise they made. After peering from around the wall that separated the kitchen from the dining room and living room, Helga could clearly identify who this was. Olga. But what on earth could she have been doing awake so early in the morning? It had to be at least 5:30. Just before disappearing behind the door, Helga got up the courage to speak.

"Where are you going?", Helga said. Her voice wasn't used to being used so early in the morning, and in effect, articulated in such a way as to send shivers up the spines of Randy, Paula and Simon.

"Oh, good morning Helga.", she replied, turning around. She wore a jogging suit made out of noisy black nylon, and a plain white T-shirt underneath. Another word rarely used in the same sentence as Olga. Nothing about Olga was plain. "I was going out for a run. You wanna come?", she asked. 

That was certainly unexpected. There stood Helga in her wrinkled pajamas bottoms and an oversized T-shirt, so worn, it was hard to remember what it was advertising. "Um, …okay.", she said, running back to her room to put on suitable jogging attire. It wasn't that she was out of shape. Quite the contrary, in fact. She ran virtually 4 days a week. After school. After she'd been awake for 14 hours. Not for 3 ½ minutes. Before long, she'd changed into an old pair of sweatpants, identical to Olga's, only much quieter, and a navy blue T-shirt with Michigan across the front. The weather was unfamiliar to Helga, so she decided to wear a small jacket over her shirt. She eventually joined Olga at the door, and they proceeded down the steps. 

Outside, it was cooler than Helga had expected, and even with her jacket, she felt a slight chill. She looked to one side, as Olga began stretching. Helga remembered something about how stretching reduces the risk of getting hurt while exercising, and in turn, began to stretch as well. After a minute of stretches, Olga began to jog, rather slowly. This upset Helga at first, she was definitely not someone to be slow about anything. But, she figured, that's just how some people are.

"Tired?", Olga asked, after about a half mile of jogging without stopping.

"Not yet.", Helga panted on reply, her cover long past blown. 

"Can I ask you a question?", Helga said, still huffing up the street. "Besides the one I just asked."

"Sure.", Olga uttered, slowing down a bit, her pace now reduced to a walk.

"Okay, lets say, you have a certain reputation. And you want to change that reputation, but it's hard, because that's the only thing people know you by. But then, you try to change your reputation, but people only know you by that one bad thing. Do you change the person you are, or stay yourself and risk being ridiculed?", Helga asked, in a more serious tone than most who feel befits someone of her age.

"Well…that is a trying predicament. I can't give you a solid gold answer, but I've always thought it best to stay who you are no matter what." Typical Olga cliché. 

"I guess.", she said, rounding the corner. Of course, Olga knew exactly what Helga was talking about, not from experience, but just from the obvious. It wasn't unusual that Helga wouldn't want to be known for what happened to her so long ago. Not that anyone here knew besides herself, but it was hard to get around being remembered for something so unfortunate.

Back at the apartment, Helga collapsed on the large ivory couch, and took long, deep breaths, to make up for the short, quick ones she'd taken in keeping up with Olga. 

"Ya know, I was thinking…", Olga began, pouring herself and Helga glasses of water, as Helga weakly got up from the couch and sat at the table. "That comforter in your room is really easy to stain. So, if you don't mind, I thought we'd change it."

Helga hadn't really thought about it much. One bowl of ice cream, or a glass of orange juice would stain the poor thing beyond repair. "It's fine with me. I wouldn't want to ruin it.", Helga replied, trying to sound polite, not exactly one of her strong points. 

"Okay, then. After work tomorrow, I'll pick you up a new comforter. What color do you want?", she asked. At least she didn't demand a color, like rose pink, or tangerine. She didn't care too much for either color. 

Helga began to realize something that very moment. Through all of their letters, and after living there for a full 26 hours and 12 minutes, she'd never bothered to ask what Olga's occupation was. She first envisioned her as the CEO of a world conglomerate or a high power attorney, like the ones on _Law and Order_. She didn't want to just interrupt her conversation altogether, and decided to just ask later. Between all this contemplation, Helga had not noticed that Olga had continued talking.

"…now I'll try to be back home by the time you get out of school, but I won't be more than half an hour later than 2 o'clock. If you get hungry, there's all kinds of stuff to eat in here. I'll need you home by that time too, school gets out at 1:55, I think. For the remainder of this week, and maybe next week, I'll be able to pick you up from school, but if I'm not there right after school, you might have to take the bus. The bus that you'll be riding is…405. ", she stated, all rather quickly. This was no longer the Olga that insisted on buying you new school clothes in the middle of the year, or who suggested having a "Movie Night". This was Olga in Parent/Guardian mode. Hopefully, this was reversible. 

Helga took it upon herself to take a peek at her class schedule for the first day. Unlike Westport, where all of your classes are bunched together in an 8-period day, the school days seemed to have been separated into two days, an A-day, and B-day. The classes were completely different each day, and lunches were divided by grade. Most of the classes she had back in Vermont, were the same as the ones she had now:

English 10: Period 3A

Chemistry: Period 1A

Spanish II: Period 4A

World Civilizations: Period 3B

Geometry I: Period 1B

3D Art II: Period 2B

Her eyes wandered farther down the page and discovered a few classes she hadn't had at Westport. One of which made her wrinkle her nose in confusion, and slight frustration.

Physical Education: Period 2A

Creative Writing: Period 4B

"Phys. Ed.!!! I have to take that again?", she whined, releasing the slightest hint of infantile behavior. She remembered being the tall, lanky blonde, being pelted with government issued gym balls, and then being sent to the bench because she threw them back too hard. 

"The credit systems vary from state to state. It won't be so terrible.", Olga reassured her. 

She tried to think of the advantages of taking Phys. Ed., few as they were. At least she had it at the end of the day, instead of the beginning, having to risk walking around smelling like sweat and…more sweat. 

The rest of the day seemed to drag on. Olga had taken another day off of work, to spend at home with Helga, but neither of them did much of anything. Eat, nap, watch a movie, nap some more, watch another movie, eat and watch a movie, nap in the middle of watching a movie…over and over. At 10:30 PM sharp, Olga sent Helga off to bed, telling her that it is crucial to her academic career that she get a good night's sleep and start school fresh and prepared to learn. It was times, like the coffee thing yesterday that made her wonder if she were really related to her _and_ Aunt Dee. Then there were times like this that solidified the fact. 

After showering, Helga sat in her pajamas on her bed and tried to think of a way of getting around telling people who she was, where she was from, or how she got there. Her first notion was to just get to school early and sit in the back of the class and just look like she belonged there. She turned off the lamp that sat on the nightstand by her bed, and fell asleep, dreaming of being anyone else. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

"BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEEP, BEE-"

Helga mentally cursed at the alarm clock, and momentarily at herself for reminding Olga that she needed an alarm clock. Maybe if Olga didn't hear it, she could just sleep for a few minutes, or hours, or decades…

"Wake up!!!", Olga said, in her doorway.

For the majority of Helga's stay with Olga she'd resisted doing three very important things: 1) She hadn't called her "Baby Sister" once 2) she hadn't said "oh so" or "ever so", at all and 3) She hadn't used her annoying, ear splitting voice. At first, Helga was inclined to think her voice had just changed, but this obviously wasn't true. Oh well, if life went the way you wanted it to all the time, Helga certainly wouldn't be waking up at 6:00 to get ready for school. 

Helga eased her way over to the edge of the bed (which felt like miles) and draped her legs over the side. It felt like eons, until she separated herself from the bed, and walked over to her drawers where most of her clothes were. Fatal high school accident number one: Procrastination. She'd neglected to lay out any clothes the night before, and was forced to search for something decent to wear. The point of today (and maybe the rest of her life) was to be as unnoticed as possible. She had to filter through most of her clothes, which were obviously not meant for someone who wanted to be near invisible. She decided on a pair of faded black jeans, that were too long for her anyway, and her favorite long sleeved Hurley shirt. Proud of herself for looking so inconspicuous, she bounced out of her room and to the table where a full breakfast was laid out. Buttered toast, milk, sausage, and a banana-nut muffin sat in front of her, each with a road map that lead straight to her stomach. 

"You didn't have to…", she said, still riveted on her food. It's hard to be self-sacrificing when your so hungry, and so much food is just put out in front of you. 

"Actually, I did. Dee called at five this morning, and told me all your favorite foods, and said not to let you out of the house until your finished. Bon Apetite!"

(A/N: Is that how you spell it? I'm not taking French this year, and I'm not quite sure…)

Helga obviously had no objections, and ate quickly. She sat up straight on the couch, after clearing her plate, in eager expectation, and a pinch of fear of her first day at her new school. Olga saw this, and purposefully wandered here and there in the apartment, delaying Helga's arrival and therefore prolonging her anguish. "Let's Go."

In the car, Helga finally remembered the question that'd been haunting her mind, second only to her identity predicament. "Where do you work?", she asked, trying to sound as interested as she was, despite being so fatigued. 

"I'm a teacher, at the Community College.", she replied, simply.

This didn't come as too much of a surprise to Helga. Olga had always talked about her exploits in Alaska, and how much she enjoyed teaching, no wonder she'd become a teacher. But at a Community College?

"Does that ever get a little intimidating?", Helga asked, feeling as if she were literally bombarding her sister with questions, but still asking away.

"How do you mean?" She couldn't quite understand the nature of her question. 

"I mean, does it ever feel…strange teaching to people who are older than you?"

"Sometimes. But I just have to remember not to let people walk all over me. I may be over ten years younger than some of these people, but as long as I remember that I'm the teacher, I don't feel too intimidated.", she said, confidently, but not cocky.

Within a block from the school, Helga's excitement was roasted and devoured by her fear. Fear, now full and fat, filled up her stomach, leaving little room for her breakfast. She immediately thought of snatching the wheel from Olga and steering the car as far away as possible. Of course, she didn't know how to drive, and doing such a Hollywood simulated stunt would more than likely put her on a hospital cot.

The building was now within eyeshot. She couldn't help it. The road suddenly seemed longer, and the dashboard farther away. She directed her attention at any and everything that didn't have to do with school, the lines in the road, the numbers of the license plate on the car in front of them, anything but school, and her actually being there. She was all of a sudden aware of her name being called. 

"Huh, yes?", she said, abruptly brought back to reality, perhaps faster than she would have liked. 

"Are you okay?", Olga said, obviously concerned. She knew well that the position Helga was in would be nerve-racking for anyone. 

Helga responded only in silence. Olga had already parked the car, on the side of the school, far away enough that Helga could enter and not have to pass a horde of people who would later prove to be a portion of the torment of her young life, if they were even there. In Olga's case, the best thing to do wouldn't have been to shut her off from the world any more than she planned to herself. But, in any situation, her older sister instinct was ignited. 

"You know, we don't have to do this today. I can call the office, and-"

"No, it's fine. Thanks.", she replied, just before offering Olga a short hug and exiting the car. Her backpack, with carried a blue spiral bound notebook, and a few pieces of loose leaf paper. Despite the load, or lack thereof, she carried, it felt as if someone had filled her bag with concrete bricks. The walk into the main building may have been one of the longest she was forced to endure. The main building contained most of the school's lockers, a majority of them in a large central lobby, near the library. To one side was a long corridor, and to the other a door, leading to a parking lot. She must have been considerably late because it was completely empty.

Helga pulled her class schedule from her pocket and glanced at her first class. Chemistry. Or was it Geometry? Great, Day one of school, and she was already lost. Seeing as the only place she was remotely familiar with was the office she went to be registered in, she figured she may as well go there and work her way to the rest of the school. Before embarking back outside, Helga took a peek to see if Olga had left or not. After scanning the parking lot for any sign of a Honda, Helga slipped out of the door and surreptitiously made her way across the school grounds to the office building. It all looked pretty suspicious, her walking across the school and trying not to be seen. Obviously, anyone with half a brain would have thought she was skipping. And it seems as though some of the teachers in this school had half a brain. 

"Aren't you supposed to be in class, young lady?"

Helga was barely in the door of the building, and immediately looked up to see a man, despite being tall, was also very generously proportioned, and wore gray sweats which bore the school's mascot and name in red. He was, more or less, completely bald, aside from the line of hairs that spread from ear to ear. 

"I, um…I'm new here, and I uh…I don't know where to go.", Helga finally sputtered. She decided to just hand him her folded schedule and wait for the verdict. 

He didn't say much, just handed it back after glancing at it for a moment, and gruffly said: "It's an A-day. Mr. Rowe's room is 203, in that building." He pointed a large dirty finger over Helga's head, and at the building she'd just come out of. She nodded, half out of fear, the other half out of trying to distract him while she escaped from within his reach. Halfway up the stairwell, Helga began to reconsider if this was really a good idea. Either way, she reasoned, there was no turning back now. 

The halls of the second floor were cold. Most of the classrooms lined the sides of the hallway, and each corridor was, more or less, a series of parallel hallway, that led right back to itself. It was easy to see that Helga could easily get lost in this building alone. She skimmed the numbers of the classrooms down hallway after hallway until arriving at 203. For some inexplicable reason, she felt the need to linger outside the classroom, like a convicted felon loitering around his cell just before he's sent to the guillotine. Somehow, her mind took over her body, and without so much as a knock, she was inside the classroom. There was a relative amount of noise in the room, and only a few heads turned. Fortunately, Helga was too riveted on the floor to make any sort of contact with any of them. She walked, and at one point, almost tripped over to the teacher's desk, and without hesitation, handed her schedule to him. Mr. Rowe, as her schedule read, was a middle aged man, with brown hair, dotted in gray. His eyes were partially hid by the large wire framed glasses that were perched on the bridge of his nose. He barely looked up from his work before taking the schedule, and skimming it over. He handed it back to her, and sat up perfectly straight, finally looking her in her eyes, or as much as possible through those glasses of his. 

"Welcome.", he stated simply, giving her a tiny smile. "Please take a seat next to…"

'Great, here it comes', Helga thought. The all too present, and clearly unwelcome practice of finding a seat. There was always the slightly mortifying possibility of being placed next to the kid who spends most of class picking his ear with a paper clip, and without hesitation, having the audacity to smell it. Or the girl who smacks her gum so loudly, you'd think Venus and Serena Williams were squaring off on your shoulder. Helga realized that even worse than that, she could have been placed next to someone who may have known her five years ago, and easy sniff her out.

Through all of her thought, Helga missed the name of the person she was supposed to be seated next to. It was obviously a girl,, Mandy, or Sandy, or something to that likeness. By now, she'd managed to keep her gaze transfixed on either one of two things: the teacher, or the floor. Now, she was forced to actually look at people. There were only two empty seats, one next to a boy who looked like he'd just jumped out of an American Eagle Outfitter's advertisement. The other was situated next to a girl who looked vaguely familiar, with long brown hair parted down the center of her head. She obviously wasn't paying much attention either, seeing as how she continued writing as if she were the only person in the room. The noise level in the room was more or less average for the size of the class, but until Helga got to her seat the silence was near deafening. 

For some reason, Helga expected something pivotal to happen to her. Other than the incredibly uncomfortable, elevated chairs she was forced to sit in, nothing noteworthy happened. She continued to sit for a while, much like many of the other students, only she was not engaged in any sort of conversation. She stared at her feet, as they shuffled about under her desk, afraid to swing them too high, in case she hit something, caused a disturbance, and directed all eyes on her. 

"Did you cover Molecular Geometry and Bonding in your last school…what was your name again?", her teacher asked, looking at her through squinted eyes. 

At once, Helga felt her throat tighten up, and the tremble of an oncoming headache. Her brief panic attacks seemed to occur more and more as the day progressed. Unfortunately, she hadn't anticipated _this_. For the second time that day, her eyes darted around, inspecting her surroundings. She needed a name. Fast. Something she could put on or off whenever she needed. Something she could remember at the drop of a hat. And most importantly, she needed something that no one could link directly to her. 

"Annabelle", she replied, faster and quieter than necessary. Mr. Rowe must have heard her, since he nodded, forgetting his question, and went on grading papers.

Helga waited until his gaze was back to the papers, until she so much as mentally said anything. She silently took her schedule, folded it horizontally just under where her name was printed, and tore a neat line under it. She stuffed her real name in her pocket, discarding it for the time being. 

'Annabelle?', she asked herself, repeatedly. It wasn't exactly her favorite name in the world. But for the sake of keeping her identity a secret, she'd have used any name, even if it was her mother's. 

"Nice name."

Helga was in that instant, aware that she was being spoken to, although not sure of it's source. Even though half the people in the room were engaged in some sort of conversation, she was almost certain that this one was directed to her. She glanced to her left, just in case someone really wasn't talking to her. She hesitated waiting for him or her to reveal themselves , and why they to talk to her of all people. 

Without much thought, she immediately suspected that the "mysterious" brown-haired girl was the one who incite the conversation. She didn't dare reply, after all, what would she say? She continued to look at her out of the corner of her eye delaying her end of the conversation for as long as possible. 

"Nice name", she repeated. "It was my mom's."

'Was?', Helga thought. Surely, the all-too-famous _Lifetime Original Movie_ line, "I'm Sorry", wouldn't have done much to help. Whoever this girl was, she most likely didn't want sympathy from a complete stranger, and conveniently, neither did Helga. 

"Thanks", Helga replied, fresh out of conversation, although she never seemed to have much in stock. 

"I'm Candy."

'So her name is Candy', Helga repeated ,sarcastically to herself. Who exactly was this girl, anyways? Didn't she know that your not supposed to talk to the new kid? Nonetheless, she smiled her best "Nice To Meet You Smile", and pretended to know what the markings on the board were. 

The rest of the day ran strangely smoothly. Most of the teachers in this school were unusually callus, and unaware. Her second period, Physical Education, was not half as hard as she'd anticipated. Unfortunately, the teacher, Coach Wilson, happened to be the same bald, generously proportioned man she'd encountered earlier that morning. But on a better note, he didn't remember her. She was issued a uniform, which consisted of a gray T-shirt, with the school name printed across the chest, and a pair of red shorts, in which she had to put her initials on. She was able to pick a locker during class, one fittingly near the back of the locker room, but still close to the door. Instead of the conventional scent of a locker room, that mostly consisted of sweat, perspiration, and other bodily emissions, this bathroom was a cloud that mostly drifted around Bath and Body Works stores. It was clear to see, scratch that, smell that there were quite a few "prissy missies" in this class. Helga was not commanded to participate in today's sport, two on two basketball, but to sit quietly and watch. As riveting as any sport was to her, she instead, pulled out some paper and a pen, and started a letter to Kirsten about her first day at school, so far. Her short attention span soon got the better of her, and she resumed watching her classmates. Some, however caught her attention. She tried to shake off the thoughts, but they returned, just as soon as they were dismissed. There was one boy, long-limbed, and at least 6 inches taller than anyone on the court, including the teacher. He had brownish hair, cut shorter than necessary. But features like these were expected in high school kids, but what she couldn't really divert her gaze from…was his nose. She tried yet again to discard such thoughts, after all, there could be plenty of kids who looked like her old classmates. Several times, she'd walked into a wall or a door thinking she'd seen someone she hadn't. Even if this person was in fact someone she knew, they weren't who she wanted to see. In coming to this school, she'd had a desire to see only two people, but not so much a desire to speak to them: Phoebe, and Arnold. 

Needless to say, these were by far the only two people she could remember who she was able to actually trust. Minus Dr. Bliss. Her thoughts were interrupted by a long, loud beep, which she had been informed was their version of a bell. She checked her schedule again, and scrolled down to third period. English. Room 213. She was forced to carry herself back up the stairs, now, with a load of papers and forms needed to be signed by her "Guardian". She arrived to her first class on time, happy, to see that there were not a lot of people who got there before her. She gave her ripped schedule to the teacher, Mr. Hertz, and waited to be assigned a seat. She watched as the room filled up, and as the bell sounded, releasing late students down the halls and into the classroom, narrowly escaping a detention. Mr. Hertz, by far, the most attentive of her teachers that day, handed her schedule back to her, after checking his seating chart, and directed her to her seat. As much as she may have expected it, she was placed directly in front of Candy. Perky-Name Candy. She smiled as she took her seat, happy at least to see a familiar face, unless of course, she'd seen one she didn't recognize before. Mr. Hertz, a taller middle aged man, with predominantly gray hair and a thick mustache, stood up in front of the class. He evidently wore glasses, from the little oval indents on the bridge of his nose. He started talking about the last class, something to do with a research project, bibliographies, etc. Helga stared out into space until the room was drowned in silence. She looked up to the front of the room, and was met by a few expectant faces, including her teachers. 

"I said, What is your name?", he repeated.

Had Candy not been in the room, Helga would have vouched for a different name. She spent most of P.E. thinking of different names to use, even though using any of them was an option. "Annabelle.", she replied, not bothering to concoct a last name. Plenty of people have lived meaningful lives without last names: Carrot Top, Bjork,… Despite this, she noticed that the teacher's expression was stagnate. Maybe he did expect a last name. "Just Annabelle.", she said, adding a little mystery to herself. 

"Okay, and where are you from?", he asked, smiling sincerely. 

"Uh, yes…I'm from Vermont.", she said, nervously. She was a little caught off guard by this question. She originally wanted to say "California", but then she'd probably be bombarded by people who wanted to know if she'd ever seen Michael Jackson, or something. 'Wow, I actually told the truth.', she said, mocking her own lies. 

Mr. Hertz must have been satisfied with that because he went right back to talking about projects and English, and teacher things. Helga was passed a paper with a list of research topics, but decided that she'd look at it later, or when she cared, which ever happened first. Halfway through class, Mr. Hertz, excused himself from the class and proceeded down the hall. The room filled with chatter and laughter, while Helga inspected the faces of just about everyone in the class. Two faces stood out above others: One belonged to the boy she'd seen in her Chemistry class who Tommy Hilfiger picked up on the street and begged to be in every one of his "I'm a tortured teen in my Tommy Hilfiger pants" ad. And the other was also a boy, with straw colored hair, tall from what she could see, and pretty social. The only difference between them, save their hair, height, and attire, she unrepentantly found herself trapped in the gaze of the first. Somehow, his eyes had found her before she had found his. She diverted her gaze and pretended to be interested in the letter she started for Kristen. Mr. Hertz, eventually came back, not bothered by the obvious noise and lack of work going on in the classroom, and began straightening up papers on his desk. The end of the class eventually sounded, dismissing everyone to lunch. As Helga passed the teacher's desk, she was politely asked to stay after. Unwillingly, she trudged over to the long wooden desk. 

"I went to the office, and inquired as to why I got this schedule in my class roster.", he said, handing her a copy of her schedule, with her name, her _real _name on the top. He must have been aware of the look on her face, because he took a seat behind his desk. "Would you like to tell me why you told the class your name was Annabelle, when it clearly is not?"

Oh, the smart-allecky things she could say to this man! 'Would I like to, or am I going to? Either way the answer's no.', she said mentally. It was part of her nature to think up snide comments to throw at people, mostly as a defense mechanism. Instead , she remained silent. 

"No. Well, if your not going to tell me, take this to the office. Ask for Dr. Phelps.", He said, handing her a plain white pass. 

Helga's jaw almost hit the floor. She was being sent to the office! On her first day! For this? She took the pass, and skipped lunch, heading straight for the office, she'd been to twice already, but obviously, not for the same reasons. 

"_Dr. _Phelps? Their sending me to a doctor?", Helga said, to an empty hallway. In her frustration, she walked in a complete circle, before leaving the building, and heading to the office. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There's one part I really, really, really, wanna add, but I'm not sure if I should carry it over to the next chapter or not. Should I? Should I wait? I can't decide!!! Okay, I'll flip a coin, heads I put up in addition to this chapter, tails, I wait till chapter seven. Here I go: Whoo! It's heads!!! (Actually, it was tails the first 8 times, but I really like this part, so keep reading!)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Dr. Phelps, please.", Helga said, showing her pass to Mrs. Connelly, the same perky woman she'd encountered two days ago. She pointed to her office, and said that she could go in. Despite this, Helga knocked and waited for the 'Come In', before proceeding in. Walking into someone's office was never easy, especially right now. Dr. Phelps, stood next to her desk, holding a few sheets of paper and what looked like a manila file folder. Helga stood in the doorway, wordless, waiting for a signal to sit down, or stay where she was, or leave. In its place, she was greeted by a woman in a dark blue pants suit. She had that elusive familiarity to her, like she knew something about you that you didn't even know. 

"You must be Annabelle.", she stated, still smiling. At least her teacher gave her enough of a margin to let her go to the office with whatever name she choose. Instead of replying at once, she resumed her stance, and scribbled a crooked line across her face.

Without a word, she was gestured over to a brown leather chair, and was suddenly reminded of her aunt and _her _big, brown leather chair. Helga took a seat, and waited for Dr. Phelps to start yammering on about youth and high school, and that it's perfectly fine to want to change your identity. Her ears were already closed. 

"So, is this your first day in this school?", Dr. Phelps asked, taking a seat behind her desk, situated in a corner of the room. She still held the papers and folder, and every once in a while, would straighten them out or shuffle them, or something.

"Yeah.", she replied. She'd resolved beforehand that it would be most advantageous to answer as short and simply as possible.

"How is it so far?", she asked.

'How many questions do you plan on asking me?', Helga scoffed to herself. "It's okay, I guess.", she said, non-chalantly. She obviously wasn't too comfortable with this. Being interrogated slowly, like some convicted felon. Not her. "Look, I know what your doing. I've been to plenty psychologists so I already can tell what's going on."

"Really, you've met with doctors before?", she inquired, already riveted.

"Yes.", Helga admitted. She was never ashamed to tell someone that she was a patient of the "psychological kind". 

"What were they like?", Dr. Phelps questioned.

"Well, one was really strange. He'd give me things, like once I told him I liked Emily Dickinson poems, and he bought me an entire anthology of her work. My aunt made me stop seeing him.", she said, unaware that she was giving away more of herself than she liked.

"So you live with your aunt?"

"No, not anymore.", she said, her tone lowered by now. 

"So, what other doctors have you visited?", she asked, returning to her questioning. 

"Well, there was this other one, I don't think she was a very good doctor.", Helga stated, her voice devoid of remorse.

"Why is that?", Dr. Phelps asked, having already abandoned the forms she once held. 

"Every time I told her about something, like if I was angry at someone or something, she'd start up on a three hour story about how she went through the same thing, and that's just how life is, and blah, blah, blah.", Helga said, now morphed into full frontal Helga, easily recognized by anyone who may have known her. 

"Any more?"

Helga quickly found out that this woman wanted her to talk, mostly about herself. She was too deep into the conversation to become a hermit crab now, and just continued with her side of the story. "There was one. She was pretty nice. Ya know, she listened and stuff."

"What do you mean, she listened?", Dr. Phelps asked, hiding her smile. 

"She didn't make me talk about anything I didn't want to. She just…listened.", Helga said, at once missing Dr. Bliss more than she remembered. She was one of the few who knew her secret, and gave her worthwhile advice as to what to do about it. 

"Why'd you stop seeing her, if she was better than the others you saw?", she asked.

"She was the first doctor I saw. I moved a little while after I started seeing her regularly.", she replied, now stirred up memories she hadn't meant to. 

"Moving can be hard, I know, I had to move here after I got married.", she said, not elaborating too much on her end of the conversation, which would result in a one sided discussion about the hardships of marriage. 

"You have no idea.", Helga sighed, staring at the ground. 

"Look Helga, I understand how hard moving and coming to a new school, but-"

"How did you know my name was Helga?", she said, interrupting, but not really caring either way. 

"Because I listened."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!! Bet your happy I put that part in!!!! In all seriousness, I love this chapter!!! And I hope you guys love it too. Even if you just like it, that's cool!!!! There's a Hey Arnold Marathon on right now (And they just played "Big Gino", which I haven't seen since forever. Oh, "Pig War" is on!! I love this episode!!! Okay, gotta go record, bye!!!!!

-Pointy Objects 


	7. Who, Where, and When

Chapter Seven. Hmm, I think you guys will like this one. I do, but that tends to change sometimes. Oh yes, and yesterday, I got the most awesome idea for another fanfic! But I'm not sure if I should put it up now or wait. But Ruthie (Ruthless) is halfway in her body bag, and even though I love her to death, the end is nigh. Oh well, I'll figure it out when I figure it out…

And I'm very, very, very, very, very (you get the point) sorry, that it took me so L O N G to update! My computer's been broken, and I was bursting with ideas, and no where to put them! And a humungous thank you to Jae B and RuffMaster, which helped me to surrender to my weakness, and crawl to my Dad and beg him to fix this thing (Which made me sick, because he fixed it in 20 seconds, and I've been sobbing over it for almost two months!) Okay, time to read!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hey Arnold

****

Chapter Seven: Who, Where, and When

__

Dear Helga,

How are you? I think it's about time to wake up, or speak, or something. Dr. Phelps, or Bliss, or whoever, is beginning to stare. But what if she is Dr. Bliss? No, don't even think such things. Dr. Bliss is probably sitting in her office, at the Hillwood Medical Center, sipping coffee, trying to understand the complex goings on of some tortured twelve year old. Dr. Bliss is miles away…

Sincerely,

-Your Conscience

P.S. Say Something-Quick!

"You're not Dr. Bliss.", Helga said, more or less out of nowhere. 'Is that the best you can do?', she asked herself. Her conscience told her to speak and she stated the obvious.

"No, I'm Dr. Phelps.", she said, smiling across the room. Even though Dr. Phelps was all the way over there, Helga couldn't help but feel like she was under a magnifying glass, being peered at by a large, familiar brown eye.

"Then how'd you know my name?", Helga asked, now on the questioning end of the spectrum.

"It's on your transcript.", she replied, holding up the manila folder that once rested on her desk. "But I used to be a Dr. Bliss.", she said, smiling, knowing she'd practically outsmarted one of her more intelligent patients.

For the second time that day, Helga's jaw graced the floor. How did she not see this coming? No one else could have been so calm to her aggressiveness. No one else could have gotten her talking like a normal person so quickly without a fight. And, most importantly, no one could have made her open up like that. She should have known from the second she walked through the door that this was no ordinary "guidance counselor". This was one of those guidance counselors that doubled as a Jedi, and did not hesitate to throw a mind trick at you the moment you weren't looking.

"What happened?", Helga said, ready to leap out of her chair, and question this…person to confirm if it really was Dr. Bliss.

"I could ask you the same thing.", she said, in equal surprise and joy.

"Yeah, about that…", Helga started, at once silencing herself little by little. Despite her trying to avoid the subject entirely, Dr. Bliss turned the compass back north and Helga found herself cornered. "Ya want the long version, or the much less painful short version?"

"Which ever one you like.", Dr. Phelps, replied, crossing her legs and sitting up straighter than she already was, in configuration for intense listening.

Helga began with their last visit, just to refresh Dr. Phelps' memory. She mentioned noticing how her father had seemed different for about a week leading up to everything. He'd taken more days off of work, and insisted that her mother not bother to replace him for his absences around the office. "…And that was it. I never saw them after that." She thought about adding another quickly composed spiteful comment somewhere around the end, but declined. The situation was already far beyond snide comments to turn around and make it into Standup Comedy Night.

"I'm very sorry to hear about that.", she remarked, actually sounding melancholic. Essentially, Helga's aim wasn't to get a sympathy card from everyone she met. But a little pity never killed anyone, right? "Has it helped you vent a little anger?"

"If your asking if I'm less angry, than before, I don't know, maybe. But if your asking if I'm angry at all, then yeah, I guess I am."

"I understand why you'd be angry…"

And so began Dr. PHELPS twelve minute discussion on why it's perfectly normal for Helga to be upset about what happened, and that it wasn't her fault. Helga, while evidently enraptured with the new idea of having Dr. Phelps there to talk to on a regular basis, she was involuntarily forced to tune her out a little. Some phrases, for instance, made Helga get the notion that Dr. Phelps had watched Dr. _Phil _obsessively, waiting for the chance to spring her newfound ideas on some tortured child.

But of course, Dr. Phelps (She often had the tendency to come close to reverting back to Bliss) wasn't one to be blocked out forever. She found a way to make her words so permanent, that they moved into your brain, and despite how many eviction notices you left pinned to the door, they refused to budge until _you _gave in. Helga waited until there was a pause in her lecture, to start paying attention again.

"I guess your right. I mean Olga helps…a little.", she mumbled. She hadn't meant to divulge _that _about herself, but it seemed as though she had a secret portal that led straight to her mind, and could look up anything she wanted. And it was probably written somewhere in her transcript.

"So your back in touch with Olga?"

"You could say that. I'm living with her…for now, anyway." This time she couldn't help adding that to the end. After all, how was she to know if this thing would work out? Just because the past two days were bearable, didn't mean the next two months would be.

"So how is that-"

Dr. Phelps found herself promptly interrupted by a loud, and altogether annoying, beep, signaling the end of Helga's lunch.

"I didn't mean to take up your entire lunch.", she said, separating herself from her chair. Helga proceeded to do the same.

"It's fine. I had a big breakfast.", Helga replied, flashing a genuine smile. Making a connection with someone who she could be herself around was amazingly refreshing. But then again, that was debatable as well. She probably wouldn't have had to morph into someone she wasn't, but it'd just be a little bit safer.

"In case you need to talk, you know where my office is.", Dr. Phelps assured her, as she left. But before she could properly depart, she was handed a folded piece of stationary.

"Give this to all of your teachers."

"Thanks", Helga called, over her shoulder. Helga dared to take a peek at the paper and found a neatly written note to all of her teachers, asking them to address her by Annabelle. She smiled, and stuffed the note in her pocket.

Candy had told her what classes she had in what building, and from her now crumpled schedule, she had to be across the campus in exactly 3 minutes. Nothing like showing up late to a class full of people you don't know, or probably do and wish you didn't, and not even know what anyone is saying.

In a terrible attempt to multitask, Helga somehow avoided running into walls, people, even an empty trashcan. But somehow doors were a little too crafty, especially since half of them were "clear" from the corner of her eyes.

When she finally came to, she was surrounded by about eight blurry faces. All of them looked up at her as if she were molting and she was about to crawl out of her skin at any given moment. Some idiot even had the audacity to wave his fingers in her face and ask how many of them he had up.

Helga promptly brushed the hand from in front of her face, mentally cursing whoever it was that thought that they may have actually been helping. She sat up, and tried to retrieve her books from wherever in the hallway they decided to land. By this time, a large number of people had left, seeing as there was no blood, or loss of memory, there probably also wasn't any interest in some clumsy kid running into a door. Unknown to Helga though, someone was talking to her.

"…And I'm sorry, I shouldn't have opened the door so fast, and it's my fault…"

Helga tried to throw in a few, "It's okay", and "Really, I'm fine", but talking to this kid was hopeless. After about another minute, Helga merely got up and uttered one final, "Thank You" over her shoulder, and resumed trying to find her class.

After safely locating the correct building she sighed, long and deep, and the three flights of stairs, it'd take to reach her classroom. Knowing that she'd be late, she began to run frantically up the stairs, glad that she was the only one on them, figuring that the rest of the student body used some hidden escalator that was only known by people who'd lived there since forever.

Finally, arriving at the top of the stairs, she was pronounced late by the annoying "bell, that in reality, sounded nothing like a bell. Her classroom was just around the corner, from the numbers situated above all the classroom doors.

To her surprise, there were many other students who were equally tardy, and rushed inside, before their teacher could notice that they weren't there. She joined the throng, more like rode the coattails and ushered herself inside, and scanned the room for the teacher.

Surprise #2: Teachers look like kids. Had Mrs. Walters not been trying to hush the class, and yell at them to begin conjugating verbs, Helga would have mistaken her for a short freshman. Despite the lack of sun outside, the room seemed to suck in light from some secret place, illuminating the room.

Mrs. Walters was short and light-skinned, with short black hair, cut into a bob. She wore thin, frameless glasses, and spoke faster than the ear could comprehend. Helga, approached her immediately after she snatched some kid's hat off, and set it on his desk. Handing her schedule and "note" over, she waited to be assigned a seat.

"Well, hello Annabelle," she began smiling long and wide. Her teeth were awfully straight. "You can take a seat, wherever you like, there are plenty of empty desks here." She said, pointing to one area of the class room. It was, for the most part desolate, with one or two people scattered amongst the 5 empty desks. Helga decide to place herself an equal distance from both of them.

She sat quietly, waiting as the class began it's opening activity. There wasn't much of a variety of different people in this school. It seemed as though all of the students, save a few creative souls, shaped their entire appearances after Catherine Zeta-Jones or Brad Pitt. It was near sickening.

The class was unusually loud, an this suited Helga just fine. The louder other people were, the quieter she seemed. And the quieter she seemed, the less noticeable she became. Invisibility, the perfect disguise.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" Guess the invisibility costume had a hole in it.

"I doubt it.", Helga said turning to the direction of yet another unidentified voice, that chose to talk to her. She wasn't trying to be out-and-out rude, but at least tell people who you are before you engage in a conversation with them.

"I think so. Were you in any of my classes this morning?"

Helga decided to turn and glare at her unwanted audience, hoping it'd turn him the other way, and he'd decide to talk to someone else's ear off for the rest of eternity. Unfortunately, she had seen this guy before, without really knowing that he'd seen her too.

"I thought I'd seen you somewhere. From Mr. Hertz' class. You're the new girl right?"

Helga was slightly speechless. From across the room, he looked like a spoiled selfish kid who'd spent all of his life up until now in some private school that Bill Gates would have needed a student loan to attend. But close up, he was nothing short of…gorgeous. He had dark hair and eyes, both intoxicating and a tad frightening. Either way, his dark eyes stayed locked to hers, while hers drifted here and there, desperately searching for something else to look at.

"Yeah, Annabelle."

"Cool. I'm Sean.", he said, flashing a rather nice smile. Two rows of perfect, white teeth. She searched his face, while flashing an equally beaming smile, for a mole, a case of acne, something that would make up for the perfection that was spilling out of this kid's ears. Suddenly aware that she'd been smiling far too long, she directed her gaze back to the chalkboard, and began recopying the notes she'd just finished writing on a separate piece of paper. Thank goodness, she'd taken a whole pack of paper had such a situation should arise.

"It's future tense."

Evidently, Sean hadn't taken her return to work as a subtle hint to stop talking to her. "I realize that.", she replied, looking back up at the "FUTRE TENSE" written in big yellow letters on the chalkboard, and Mrs. Walters scribbling notes quickly under them. If she spent too much more time talking to him, she'd more than likely miss something she didn't catch the first time around.

"I don't think you're writing it correctly.", he said with simple and clear confidence.

Great. She'd discovered his imperfection after talking to him for thirteen seconds. He was conceited, and if she knew anything, he was probably some rich conglomerate's spoiled little brat. Wonderful.

"Look, I'm in this class, same as you are. That and my 3.8 GPA is more than enough evidence to support the fact that I know what I'm doing." In reality, her GPA was a 3.76, but a 3.8 was justifiable too. Needless to say, Helga could share her have of self-confidence as well. No one, especially some…some boy, who she didn't even know, tell her what she was and wasn't.

"Interesting."

"What?", Helga replied. She wasn't really in the mood for this guy's crap.

"You're not as passive as you look.", he said, resting his chin on his fist, awaiting her eruption.

'Passive??!!!' If Helga wasn't one thing in the world, it was passive. Anyone who knew _her_ knew she was anything but passive.

Just as she was about to give Sean a glimpse of "Passive Betsy" and the "Passive Avengers", the annoying excuse for a bell rang and left her hovering over him, set to kill. Saved by the Bell. Literally.

Instead of beating him to a pulp right there, she ignored his snickering, and headed for the door. Down the three flights of stairs, and out into the main courtyard she was sneaking around earlier that morning, she was thrown back three feet at the multitude. There was at least a thousand kids in the school, how was she supposed to commute around here? As soon as she stepped outside the door, she felt more like a little metal ball in a pinball machine. Like a drunk crowd surfer, she was passed from person to person, none of them really looking to see who they were passing her to. After a few minutes of whizzing around in the courtyard like a grape in a blender, a hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder, pulling her to the side of a building.

"Ya okay? Ya look pretty shaken up."

Thank goodness, she'd been tolerant to one person today. Candy watched as Helga…er, Annabelle, smiled while trying to catch her breath. How did anyone get through this crowd? It was like sawing a tree in half with a piece of hay.

Almost as if her mind were being read, Candy spoke. "The trick is to walk out there like you own the place. And never forget the one and only rule: Never say excuse me, sorry, or pardon me. People respond to an assertive demeanor.", she stated. Without much time to think, _Annabelle _was lead into the crowd of people, many much taller than her. At first, she was shoved a little, but remembering what Candy had said, made her remember she was Helga, who let _no one _get away with doing anything to her. She stood up straight, and walked through the throng of souls like she was the Queen of this chessboard, and no body could step in her path. She sliced through the crowd like a knife through butter, and didn't give anybody a second glance.

After walking what seemed a few feet, she found herself at the curb. Candy was right at her heels, beaming at her success, even if it was just walking through a crowd.

"Not bad, rookie. Ya only ran into three people. Guess you're not as passive as I thought."

Helga turned to face her. Twice in the same hour! She had to say something this time. There weren't any bells to distract her, and Olga probably wasn't even within eyeshot.

"I was in class when Sean called you out. I swear you had flames in your eyes.", she laughed.

At least she'd revealed the butt of the joke before she near killed her. She had to smile at remembering how she wanted to maim him.

"Ugh.", Helga sighed. "You know _him_?" Candy was so nice, and reasonably bearable, while Sean was annoying, bothersome, and most likely a womanizer. Why would she choose him for company?

"Kinda. He's my brother."

For the first time that day, Helga was about to choke on air, if that was possible. 'Her Brother??!!! How could they crawl out of the same gene pool?' Candy must have noticed the look on her face, and took the chance to clarify.

"Step. I'm in no way related to that."

Helga looked over her shoulder at the Honda Accord that pulled up behind her. Bidding a short goodbye to her newest companion, and stepped over to the car. Opening the door, laying her backpack on the floor, and sitting in the front seat, she awaited Olga's hundred questions.

"I see you made a friend…", she began.

"I wouldn't quite call it a friend. I made…an acquaintance.", she retorted, as Olga drove straight, then tuned, swerving a little.

"See anyone you knew?", she asked, waiting for a red light to turn back to green.

"A few." Despite the hint of fear that remained since the morning, she didn't mind letting them see her. But talking to them, having and actual conversation with any of them, was near mortifying. She wasn't quite ready for that, not yet.

Hoped ya liked it. Oh, and Amelia Bedilia, I really didn't know paragraphs were that long! Looking back at the original draft, I didn't realize they were inches long! Sorry!!! Turns out my computer isn't quite as fixed as I'd hoped. We have that old, crappy virus, that give you 59 seconds to save and shut down everything you're doing. Yeah, So back to Best Buy we go!! I think I'll pick up some CD's while I'm there. Oh well, please review


	8. Life As A Lie

Chapter Eight!! Without a doubt, I really love this chapter! Whooo! Here I go!! And I know many of you have been waiting, and waiting, and waiting, for Helga to finally meet Arnold, so this is definitely the chapter for you. She won't be meeting Phoebe for at least another chapter. Okay, I'm done, read on!!

Back Home

Chapter Eight: Life As A Lie

By the next week, Helga was more prepared. Her clothes were set out, virtually the same as every other day, minus the scrunchie. Today, she was going for the "I woke up late look". Very common for High School. Very inconspicuous.

Since it was exactly one week since she'd moved back to Hillwood, she was forced to ride the bus for the first time in years. Of course, she'd ridden a bus to Westport everyday (Minus the days when she really _was _late) but nothing like the ones at home. The buses for Westport were yellow, like most. Inside, the seats were in perfect condition. The bus driver, an uptight little woman, known only as MS. JILL, was only permitted to play classical music over the radio. Something about keeping the kids "cultured".

On the buses at home, things weren't so controlled. As she remembered, people (mostly kids; you rarely found an adult on that bus) were able to get up, walk around and do just about anything they wanted (Helga expressly remembers having so much freedom as to doing the limbo during the ride to a class field trip). Just as long as they stayed behind the white line. After finishing off her cereal, Helga carried her bowl to the sink. Olga had already begun to wash a few dishes she didn't have time to do the night before. Helga stood by her, just before grabbing a dishtowel, and drying the dripping plates, and utensils.

"Olga…", she asked, still holding a wet plate. The tone of her voice revealed that she'd been contemplating this for a while.

"Yes…" Olga replied, still scrubbing away at plates, and whatnot.

"I just wanted to tell you, Thanks. And, that I plan on helping." Hopefully that'd be enough of an explanation to break the ice.

"You are helping." she replied cheerfully. Obviously, she didn't quite catch the drift of Helga's message.

"I meant…financially. I wanna get a job…to help." she stammered, adding the last part on quickly. Before she knew what was going on, Olga had turned off the water, and discontinued washing any more dishes. It was pretty evident, from the look on her face; the Olga was juggling a bizarre combination of emotions, predominantly sympathy and compassion. To her, Helga had been through enough, and if she thought that she needed to get a job to "earn her keep", then the answer was clear.

"You don't have to get a job.", Olga finally said, still ignoring the dishes. Had she done that, it would have made the argument one-sided, and probably keep Helga from divulging any more personal information to her.

"But I don't want you to think I'm freeloading. Please, please, please???" In her mind, she kicked herself for resorting to begging so early in the game. But if that's what it took…

Olga, on the other hand, was having more of an internal conflict. Her conscience knew it was wrong for someone her age to be working, but still another part of her brain reasoned that it would be a bad idea to hold Helga back from anything that would make and keep her happy here. But of course, with all happiness, came a few restrictions.

'You will work only one day per weekend and no more than three weekdays. You will not work before 4:30 after school, or after 9:30 PM. Am I understood?" She tried to look "hard", like a big sister laying down the law with an iron fist and no negotiations in sight. But inside she was praying that this would be a good idea, with no recognizable damage. Olga Pataki, jelly donut.

"Thank You, Thank You!!!!", Helga squealed, unintentionally imitating Olga in one of her happier moods. Just before she dashed off to her room, she gave Olga a quick hug, and ran out the door, snatching her backpack from its place next to the door.

"Have a good day.", Olga said, resuming her chore of dishwashing.

For some reason, Helga seemed to enjoy Olga's apartment complex. The worn brown carpet lined hallways made it seem homier. She silently slid into an opening elevator and politely smiled to a portly woman, exiting her apartment with a load of laundry.

Downstairs, she waved to a man sitting lazily in a chair in the lobby, and glided out the double doors. Outside, it was colder than she expected, causing her to drop everything she was holding, untie the hoodie she'd wrapped around her narrow hips and pull it over her head.

After looking quizzically from the left to the right, then to the left, she tried desperately to remember which way the bus stop was. She recalled seeing a group of kids her age walking up the street towards the school, and in turn, did the same. The sidewalks were narrow and crowded with joggers, dog walkers, strollers and produce stands. At the end of the block stood a towering telephone poll, littered with staples, nails, and homemade advertisements. The ads ranged from Yard Sale notices, to the sale of a used but mint condition piano, and lost pets. One, in particular, caught Helga's attention, and refused to surrender it. It was printed on bright blue paper, and despite the blurred letters vanquished by rain, she could easily make out the most important portions:

HELP WANTED

CALL 555-3562

532 Vine Street

Above it, barely readable, was something about a flower shop, probably where she would have to work, granted she got the job. After scribbling the number and address on a spare piece of paper without paying much mind to where exactly it was, she saw a large blue bus pull up to a group of school aged kids. Running rather frantically, she was able to catch up relatively quickly. Now comes the hard part.

Even though, she hadn't so much as passed her old house since arriving in Hillwood, she could still recognize where she was in proportion to it. And seeing as she _was_ within a half-mile radius of the last place on earth she wanted to be, she wasn't too keen on the prospect of seeing very many others from her past.

Helga smiled politely at the bus driver, and noticed that where a change box once stood was now just an empty space.

Somehow, since coming back to Hillwood, she'd acquired the power to detect empty seats without looking at where occupied ones were. She quickly located a seat on the right side of the bus, towards the front. From the bus window, Helga made a mental note of where everything was, in case she were to get lost and have to walk home. The bus made a few more stops, each time refilling with more people. This only made Helga stare harder out of the window and shift closer to it. After another fifteen minutes of stopping, staring, and shifting, the bus turned slowly into the road the school was off of, where two buses were unloading their pack of hormone-ridden teen nightmares. The doors were pried open, and the bus driver waited until everyone was off before revving up the engines.

Jetted back into the face of the unyielding multitudes, Helga was instantly forced to don her alias, Annabelle (or Ann, as Candy so non-chalantly shortened it to). She made her way through the crowds, not quite as confidently as she had before, but it's hard to be confident when you're avoiding any and all contact with everyone. Inside the largest building, rightfully named the Media Building for the large, ancient library that took up most of the first floor, Helga made her way past too many love-stricken teenagers and found her locker. Candy, who was currently her only source of companionship, expertly located the best lockers on campus. Despite the cloud of smoke that escaped the nearby bathroom every time the door is opened, Candy professed that they were the only lockers in school that couldn't be broken into.

From outside the glass panel of the school office, Helga could clearly make out Ms. Connelly staring out of the adjacent window. Funnier still, she had her hands poised to type, but they only hovered over the keyboard, motionless. After a moment of contemplation, Helga entered, and noticed the two students, sitting in identical chairs, shoulders slumped. Hopefully, they weren't waiting for Dr. Bliss too. Helga couldn't help but use her maiden name in reference to Dr. Phelps. They'd struck an agreement that within the confides of her office, she could be Dr. Bliss, if Helga could be…Helga.

Just in case they were trying to get a mini-session in with _her_ Dr. Bliss/Phelps, she made sure to position herself closest to her office, so that if she were coming, she'd run into her office before the other kids could blink twice.

Fortunately for Helga, Dr. Phelps was in her office, and exited to throw away an empty paper coffee cup.

"He-Annabelle, how are you? Come in…", she said, gesturing for her to come inside. Behind her, Helga heard the moan of one of the kids sitting in the chairs. Ha Ha. Suckers.

"So how have you been?", Dr. Bliss, said set and ready to listen. Today she decided to go completely out opposite of the weather and wear a dark green pantsuit with a lighter shade of green for her blouse. Helga wasn't particularly fond of the color green, only because it reminded her of some unpleasant people. Or just one.

'What happened to Lila, anyway? Probably moved back to Pleasantville, …good riddance.', she thought, inadvertently letting her mind wander, and ignore Dr. Bliss' question altogether. "Oh, I'm sorry, what was that?", she asked, finally getting back into her stable mindset.

"How have you been?", she asked again, not the least bit impatiently. How could this woman be so tolerable with her?

"Helga or Annabelle?", Helga replied, jokingly. Dr. Bliss never scolded her for making up an alias, and so far was the only person she'd told. In her phone conversations with Kirsten, short as they were, she just said that she hadn't found anyone she may have known. And as for James, she'd only attempted to call him once, and thus had a fourteen-minute conversation on something she felt wasn't worth remembering.

"Both", she said, smiling back. She had to be patient with Helga. As sheltering as it may have been, Helga needed sensitivity after her ordeal, and then returning to the place of such haunting memories.

"Helga's alright. Annabelle's got a few questions."

"Go ahead.", she said, ignoring the clock the silently warned Helga that she had seven minutes to divulge what secrets she could.

"Okay, I'm not sire what I should do if I happen to…come across someone I used to know, like…"

"Like, Arnold?", Dr. Bliss guessed, without really guessing.

"Exactly…I mean, you're the only one I've told that I am…who I am. And for now, I think it's better that it stay that way." Helga wasn't too keen on the idea of telling a lot of people who she was, or Olga. She'd lived here, and undoubtedly crossed a few of her classmates more than once. Not to mention that most people her age remember her not as "Olga's Sister", but Olga as "Helga's Sister". Olga was too much of a connection.

"Well, if you think it's best that you continue this for an extended amount of time, or until you meet him, then you can either reveal yourself as Helga, use your new identity, or just avoid him altogether. It's your choice."

'My choice?? What am I supposed to do with that???', Helga thought. The annoying bell, car alarm sound, cut her conversation with Dr. Bliss short, something she did not need. What she needed was answers, and possibly a new alias.

"Thanks.", Helga said, approaching Dr. Bliss. Of course, Helga was taller now, and no longer forced to hug a torso, but face to face, and properly offer a warm hug between friends.

"I hope everything works out for you.", Dr. Bliss imparted, comfortingly.

"Me too.", Annabelle said, exiting the office, and closing the door behind her.

"Why on earth would you _want_ to get a job?", Candy asked, fumbling with a paintbrush, trying to make the very tip of it as thin as possible, but to no avail.

"Just to help my sister out and stuff.", Helga said, staring at the ancient art table, bored. She'd counted all the couples that'd scratched their names into the wood, and was currently on seventeen.

"You have a sister? What's her name?", candy asked, spitting out questions as fast ass they entered her mind.

"Uh…", Helga uttered, her eyes beginning to nervously dart from one object to another. "Uh, …what's that?", she asked, pretending as though she'd never heard Candy's question. She pointed at candy's art project, a block of wood with an elaborate looking rose carved into one side.

"It's one of those self-expressive art projects. Where you get a bunch of junk, and make it represent yourself. ", She explained, ready to go into vicious detail on every intricate portion of her masterpiece. "You should do it. It can be a collage or anything." she finished, turning back to her rose carving.

Helga looked around the room, at twenty other students, all gluing buttons and feathers, and string to boxes, paper, notebooks, all trying to find the perfect something to make theirs stand out above all others. Making sure not to intercept the girl with the large balloon covered in very wet paper mache, Helga walked up to a large box the teacher; Mrs. Myers had placed on her desk, filled to the brim with leftover art supplies. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, or anything at all, just something to occupy her mind for the remainder of the class. After setting aside a bent piece of wire, a red and purple piece of yarn, and some very worn out, but still shiny wrapping paper. None of the items meant anything to her, or represented her in anyway, but they were something to do. Carrying the items back to her large wooden desk, which she shared with Candy, and some girl who wore her headphones at all times. Unfortunately, she didn't notice the newest arrival to her table.

Back to the teacher's desk to get a large piece of poster paper, to glue all her meaningless clutter to, Helga ignored Candy's conversation with some person; she wasn't interested in catching the eye of, but did anyway.

"You look familiar…", said a male's voice, one she wasn't able to discern right away. Helga remained focused on flattening her piece of wrapping paper, ignoring whoever this was completely.

"Not a chance. This is Annabelle, she just moved here.", Candy said, Queen of Introductions. For some reason, Candy smiled long and wide, proud to know something before most. Helga, of course, didn't mind, seeing as Candy was the first person to address her by name…or at least the one she'd given her.

"I think, …I think I hit you with a door the other day. You alright?", he said, continuing despite both of them ignoring him. Although, he was a little hard to ignore, sitting on top of the table like that.

'No, Einstein. I'm still suffering from a four day old concussion…', Helga retorted mentally. 'What does this guy want anyway?', Helga thought. But, as long as he wasn't Sean, and was going to demonstrate the proper way to glue wrapping paper, he wasn't too unbearable. "It's okay.", Helga said, not wanting to ignite any sort of conversation, but knowing well that she'd opened a door that wasn't easily locked.

Against her instincts that usually kept her from looking anyone in the eye, she could practically feel them watching her every jerked movement. Helga's calm, blue eyes were unexpectedly met with a pair of all too familiar green eyes, which may have possibly thrown her back a few hundred feet. She tried desperately to close her already gaping mouth, but every time her lips joined together, a message from her brain would remind them of the current situation, and they'd pop open again.

'No…No…No…No…No…', she kept saying to herself, until she was able to break out of her trance, and speak. Poking the very corner of her eye she stammered on, not quite sure of what she herself was saying. "Contact Lens, on the floor area, and I, fell." Helga dived under the table, her only companions being Candy's feet. _Arnold's _feet hovered somewhere nearby.

'Arnold?', Helga repeated to herself over and over. '_This is not happening, this is NOT happening. The first person I meet is…not Arnold. It's not Arnold. There are plenty blonde-haired, green eyed, teenage boys in this town with unusually wide heads…yes, yes, this is true.' _Helga contemplated under the table. Just as she was about to resume her position as ANNABELLE, the sane, new student from Vermont, she was interrupted by the voice that reverted her back to HELGA, the insane, ten-year veteran of Hillwood. Wonderful.

"You okay under there?" Thank goodness there was no face to accompany the voice, which she now identified as Candy, not Arnold.

"I'm gonna, go to the trashcan…", Helga said, while walking towards the front of the room. While miming blowing her nose, throwing away a piece of paper, basically everything that most, normal people do at a trashcan, Helga silently went over the past few seconds, convinced something had gone wrong. She reasoned that as long as she kept telling herself that whoever this imposter was, was not Arnold, then she'd be fine.

To her surprise (and slight relief), she returned to her designated table to find only Candy, and Headphone Head Girl.

"You okay, I was worried for a second there.", Candy asked, almost laughing. Picking up a metal carving tool, she began elongating a rose petal she thought was smaller than all the rest. Helga merely nodded, wanting to tell Candy that the petals were fine, but one thing she learned about Candy in the past week, was that she was very opinionated. Not cocky, but she would eventually have gotten Helga to believe that it was too small as well.

"So what _was _that anyway? Do you like him or something?", Candy asked, with a wicked smirk gracing her freckled face. There was a high chance she was within the next ten years, replace Katie Couric on the Today Show. She could squeeze the truth out of OJ Simpson if she wanted.

"No…no, I've only just met him.", Helga answered; almost completely certain that what she said made sense this time. But for some reason, it didn't seem to "stick". Candy was still wearing her grin, obviously not won over. "…Plus, I have a boyfriend.", Helga retorted, rather quickly. '_Yeah, whom you haven't seen or spoken to in almost a week…', _her conscience reminded her.

This seemed to solidify her excuse. But of, course, Helga had a bit of an interrogation for Candy. "Do you like him?" It was a fairly reasonable question. She wasn't prying into her business, or Arnold's. "Just asking."

"Who me?", Candy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Nah, Arnold's not my type. Too sweet."

'_Great. So it was Arnold. And sat here like a stammering goldfish. Perfecto.' _Helga found her composure, eventually, and shrugged it off. Retreating back to the front of the classroom, unsatisfied with the miniscule amount of odds and ends she'd collected. Left in the box was a few paper clips, a blank CD, several fake pearls, and a couple of frayed ribbons. The contents of the box had been drastically reduced since her last visit, and need only to move a few things around to see to the bottom. One object caught her attention like nothing else had. With one end hanging out lazily from under a sheet of wrinkled newspaper print, Helga pulled it out, and found it to be longer than it essentially looked. There, about a foot and a half, was a thin pink ribbon. One side was a little dirtier than the other, but overall, it was in a nice condition. Finding it funny that she would find this, and Arnold in the same place, she shoved it in her pocket, and turned to go back to her table. Without warning, a flash went off, as though a nuclear bomb had exploded right in her face.

"Thank You."

After regaining a portion of her normal eyesight, Helga waltzed right up to Mr. Paparazzi and ask why exactly he'd blinded her.

"Hey, what was that for?", she asked angrily, sounding a little too Helga-ish for her own good.

"Yes…?", Arnold said, turning around. His camera was already poised.

Helga, still taken back a bit, focused on the pencil sharpener directly behind him, so that even though it may have looked like she was staring him straight in the eye, she could avoid doing so completely. Ha.

"What was that for?", Helga repeated, not quite so angrily.

"I'm sorry, did I scare you?", he said, callous.

Helga was a little shocked to find that Arnold had grown sarcastic over the past few years. Contrary to the belief of others (cough, cough, Sean) Helga had some sarcasm left too. "You should warn people before you go taking pictures of them." Helga retorted, mildly threateningly.

"Candy tells me your looking for a job.", he said, utterly ignoring her warning. She was now forced to look him straight in the eye, seeing as he was moving around now.

"So?", Helga asked. She wasn't interested in pursuing a conversation with Arnold. If he were anything like Candy, he'd see through her disguise in a heartbeat.

"So, my job is hiring, and if you want, I can give you the number."

Still sweet. He hadn't changed an inch. Except maybe that he'd grown into that enormous head, and he was currently strattling 5' 8. But that he was still willing to help someone that was rude to him, was the last sure sign that _this _was Arnold.

"That's okay. I already have a place in mind. Thanks.", she said, feeling that was the perfect place to exit. Any more information divulged, and she might accidentally mention Olga…again.

Ta Da!!! Hope that lived up to everyone's expectations!!!!! I wasn't sure how the Helga/Annabelle/Arnold scenario would pan out, but I tried. Ideas always seem better in my head that on my computer!!! Oh well, hope you liked it!!! I must go now!! Next Chapter: "**Betrayal and Rosebuds**" (Chapter Titles subject to change) Goodbye All! Mwah!

-Pointy Objects


	9. Rosebuds and Betrayal

Chapter Nine!!! I have been in LOVE with this chapter since forever!! I don't care who reviews or how, I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!!! There's one line (that I love) that actually built this story. Like I needed a story to go with the line (because I love it), so I finally get to use it!! Wheeee! Okay, one with the chapter (That I love)!

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Chapter Nine: Rosebuds and Betrayal

"Remember what your hours are, okay?"

"Okay."

"And tell this person what time you need to be home, okay?"

"Okay."

"And don't agree to work anyone else's shift, okay?"

"Okay."

"And, if you-"

"Olga!" Helga said, finally looking up. She knew her constant warnings weren't supposed to limit her, and she knew Olga was looking out for her best interests, but when best interests are pushed into one big pile, they just look like a big pile of worry.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know you're too old to be lectured to, but-"

"But you're looking out for me, and you just want me to be careful. And I will," Helga said, reassuringly. Olga seemed satisfied by this, and turned back to her latest issue of _Oprah _magazine. "Okay, my boyfriend will be here in about ten minutes, he's driving me on his big, black Harley. Afterwards, we might hit the town, check out a few nightclubs, pop back a few beers…"

"Helga!" Olga said, knowing full well that she was joking, but playing along none the less.

"I'm joking, okay, calm down. I'll be back in an hour, an hour and a half, tops. Promise," Helga said, barely containing her laughter. Not wanting to over dress for a simple interview, she decided (after Olga's endless advice) to just wear classy dress pants and a purple button down blouse. Even though she didn't think it was necessary, Olga thought it best to put together a resume, just in case. With that, a work permit, Olga's spare key, and identification, Helga was ready to leave.

"Sure you don't want a ride?" Olga asked. Since Helga got home, Olga seemed more nervous than Helga.

"Yeah, I'll find it in no time. Bye." Helga said, closing the door with her portfolio in hand. Down the stairs, Helga patted her pocket to make sure she still had the address. She wasn't familiar with the address, but figured she could just map herself around.

Despite the time, the sun was still bright over the housetops and half blinded Helga as she stepped out of the apartment building lobby. Looking around the neighborhood, she noticed the large park that she and Olga passed on their morning walk last week. It seemed like a simple enough landmark; in case she got herself lost, all she had was to look for a park. As she walked through the park, she pulled the wrinkled piece of paper from her pocket, and scanned the address. She had to read it over twice before noticing where it _really_ was.

"Vine Street?!!" Helga said out loud. _'How could I have missed that?' _She thought. She'd copied it down straight from the ad, but was certain that there must have been a Vine Avenue, or a Vine Boulevard somewhere that she accidentally mistook this ad for. Crossing the park, she contemplated what her next course of action should be. If she ran back to the place where she first saw the ad, she'd be late and probably not make it by sundown, or the store's closing, which ever came first. But if she did get there, she might end up on Vine Street, and find that it really was on the same street as Arnold's house. The street that Olga's apartment was on, Leaves End Rd., wasn't familiar for Helga, but as soon as she got out of the park, she was almost certain of where she was.

After passing 33rd Street, which she remembered had a movie theatre on it, she was finally starting to recognize certain little things that she wouldn't recall, had she not seen them. Just around the corner was Vine Street. The same Vine Street she walked down almost everyday, for some reason or another, usually to follow Arnold home. It wasn't easy finally turning the corner and trying to keep her eyes on her side of the street, in case she forgot exactly where Arnold's house was.

Up ahead, she saw what resembled a sidewalk produce stand, only filled with bright purple and red flowers. Running, towards it, to make sure it was really a flower shop and not just some street vender's cart. In her frantic jog, she passed by what looked like the same Butcher shop that was on this street five years ago. More captivating, however, was whom she saw, or thought she saw inside the shop was what kept her there for a minute or two. Inside was a little less than portly guy laying chops in a display window under the cash register. She did not catch his eye, and luckily enough, seeing as he probably could recognize her as much as she could his only exposed tooth.

Snapping back into reality, Helga walked, next door to the flower shop. Inside, was a woman watering a few tiny pink and yellow flowers. Helga debated whether they were pansies or peonies, but figured that she'd figure it out eventually…if she got the job.

As soon as she opened the door, she heard a little bell chime, and signal her arrival. The inside of the shop was quaint and simple. There were flowers on various shelves, and samples of different wreaths that the shop made. Like most of the stores on the street, there was a large display window opposite from the front desk. In it was roses, tulips, lilies, almost every flower imaginable, enhancing the look of the store. Through the window, Helga could see a large brick building that made her heart stop. Turning around abruptly before going into cardiac arrest, just in time to greet the elderly lady who came out from the back room.

"Hello, how may I help you?" she asked, in a voice almost as frail as herself. Her silver hair was pulled back into a tight little bun on the back of her head, and she wore an olive green smock with matching slippers. She smiled trustingly, which made Helga more open to talk to her.

"I saw your ad on Leaves End Street." Helga replied, smiling. She often forgot to smile when talking to people, and made sure to practice before leaving the apartment.

"Oh yes, I thought no one would answer to that. May I ask your name?"

"Oh, um Helga. But everybody calls me Annabelle." she said. It'd be too hard trying to explain why her resume has Helga Pataki all over it, but her real name is Annabelle.

"Okay Annabelle, I'm Ms. Vitello, um have you ever worked with a cash register?" she asked, leaning on the front desk.

"Um, yes, I have. ", Helga said, pulling her resume and schedule, silently thanking Olga for making her one, and handing it over. She watched as Ms. Vitello, skim over her resume, nodding occasionally and "umm hmm" every so often.

"Well, this is a very nice resume. And your schedule works perfectly with another employee of mine. Except for one thing…" she said, scrunching her long nose at the papers. Helga looked over the top of the paper at where her bony finger was directed. Apparently, Olga ordered that she not work past 9:30 at night, which is what she labeled as her availability. If she did have to stay any later than that, Olga would have her head.

"Well, about that…"

"We close at 9:00. And 8:30 on Sundays. Other than that this schedule is just fine. Just fill this out and let me sign your working permit." Helga leaned onto the front desk and wrote her name, home address, phone number, and more meaningless information on two different sheets of paper; one for her, and the other for Ms. Vitello. After all was said and done, Helga thanked her generously, and started on her way out.

"How soon can you start?" Ms. Vitello asked, before Helga could even get to the door.

Helga turned, still overjoyed about getting the job, and not really thinking about how soon she would start working. "Um, tomorrow, I guess."

"Good, my other employee is working that day. I won't be able to come in so he'll have to give you the whole introduction. Four-thirty, right?" She asked, walking behind the cash register, and tapping her fingertips on the desktop.

"Yes, thanks." she said, using her first informality of the day. She proceeded out of the store, and waited until she was far enough away to laugh out loud at herself. Ten minutes and a victory dance later, Helga noticed that it was starting to get dark out. The sun had close to setting by the time she found Ms. Vitello's Flower Shop, and she was sure she hadn't stayed there for an hour. There was still light to see by, and she ran around the corner, but not without taking a last glance at the now lit up boarding house down the street.

Skimming the darkened streets, Helga easily found the park, surrounded by streetlights, and crossed through the grass and playground area. All of the benches in the park were shrouded by tall leaf covered trees, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

At the park entrance, Helga looked up, exhausted, expecting to see Olga's apartment complex across the street. Instead, she found an abandoned Auto Body shop, with long, high intertwining vines crawling up all sides. Slightly puzzled, she turned back to the park, and tried another entrance, only to find two pairs of train tracks leading off to nowhere.

__

'It's only a quarter till six, Olga shouldn't be too worried…' Helga thought, pacing the outside of the park, hoping the streetlights would ward off any muggers who thought they could rob and leave her.

"Do you need some help? You seem a little lost…"

Helga wasn't sure of what to make of this voice. It certainly came out of nowhere, and Helga hoped it'd return there soon. She didn't know which way it was coming from, but decided against turning around. It still wasn't entirely dark, and she continued walking in a more quickened pace.

"I'm not trying to rob you, honest…"

__

'Oh sure, you're not trying to rob me. Make sure to tell the officer that after they find my maimed corpse in an alley somewhere', Helga thought, speeding up her stride little by little.

"Are you looking for somebo-"

"Look, I'm not lost, I'm not misplaced, and I'm certainly not naïve enough to think that people don't get robbed everyday. And besides, I've lived here for years…" The last part wasn't just lying. As some would call it, it is better known as rearranging information. In truth, Helga had lived in Hillwood for years, just not any recent ones. After a moment or so, she heard a slight clicking noise, and what looked like lightning from behind her. _'I'd better get home before it rains, Olga's probably got the Navy called by now.' _she thought.

After safely locating her correct park entrance, she walked into the near empty lobby, and waved to the woman on the bottom floor, who was most likely the landlord's wife. Or the landlord. She attempted to be friendly to everyone in the complex, which seemed to be a harder task than she thought, seeing as some of her neighbors were socially impaired, as it were. Upstairs, she knocked on the door, until remembering that Olga had a spare key made for her, and pulled it out of her pocket. Before she could slip it in the keyhole, Olga opened the door, illuminating the dark hallway with the light from inside her apartment.

"Welcome home. So, how'd it go?" Olga asked, walking into the kitchen and finishing up with the last preparations for dinner.

"I got it, if that's what you mean. It was pretty easy though. Thanks for the resume, by the way." Helga said, setting her forms on the dining table and plopping down on the couch, after kicking her shoes off by the door. "Ms. Vitello was really nice. I might actually enjoy this job." Helga said.

"You're not going to call home and tell everybody? I'm sure they'd love to hear how you're only here for a week, and you've already got a job." Olga called from the kitchen.

Helga had already grabbed at the phone and started dialing James' number. She figured he'd be the first person she'd call, since she hadn't spoken to him longer than anyone else. She'd had a seven-minute conversation with Aunt Dee almost everyday, and was sure that Olga called her while she was out. Speaking of which, Olga had been rather generous with her long distance, lately. She probably knew that, with Helga living with her, she'd obviously be homesick and want to call home a lot.

"Hello, Mrs. Cooke? Hi, it's Helga…I'm fine thanks. Is James home?' Oh…no, no message, thanks, thanks bye." Helga said. "He's not home." she said over her shoulder.

"Call that uh Kristen or Carrie…"

"Kirsten?" Helga corrected. At least she tried to remember her name. Most people would refer to her friends as "that girl" or "what's her face". At least, Olga was close. Helga dialed Kirsten's number, and listened to the dial tone until somebody picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Is that how you're supposed to answer a phone?" Helga asked into the receiver.

"Is that you, Helga? What's up?"

"Not much, Leprechaun. You?" Helga smiled to herself. Even as a "young adult" she couldn't help but make up ridiculous names for people, especially about they're looks. They were never meant to be mean, just for fun, and Danny, Kirsten's brother understood this better than anybody. If he and Kirsten were to stand right next to each other, you wouldn't even think they were related, let alone brother and sister. Kirsten had shoulder length, shiny brown hair and intense, dark brown eyes, while, Danny, the only Irish representation of the family, wore a bright mop of red-orange hair on his head, with light green eyes. Danny was only a year younger than both Kirsten and Helga, but stood barely five feet tall, hence the nickname. "Is Kirsten there?"

"Nope, she's out…again.", Danny said, obviously tired of being her automated voice answering machine.

"What on earth is she doing on a Tuesday night?" Helga asked, sitting upright on the couch.

"She's been out almost every night for the past week. She's been out with some…Jerry or Jack…no James! Yeah, some weird James guy. I think he goes to Spaulding."

Helga stayed silent as Danny yammered on for a minute or two. She was never quick to make assumptions, but rather quick to mistrust. _'But this is Kirsten we're talking about.' _she immediately thought, debating with herself. The same Kirsten who cried at the airport at 1:05 in the morning, for her. Kirsten wouldn't…couldn't do that. Not that. Not to her.

"Hello…?"

"Oh, sorry Danny. What was that?", Helga asked, snapping back into reality.

"Do you want me to leave her a message?"

"No, that's…yes. Yes, tell her I called, I need to speak to her right away, okay?" Helga said into the phone, devising a plan with every word she spoke.

"Um, okay…bye."

"Bye." Helga said, slyly, putting the phone back on it's cradle. If she could just hear Kirsten's voice, everything would be just fine…

"So, how'd the interview go?", Candy asked, perching herself behind Helga in their usual spot on the left side of the room.

"I got the job, I guess." Helga said, opening her English binder, and staring forward, while trying to listen to Candy.

"Cool, guess you didn't need any help after all…", Candy said.

"Guess not. But thank Arnold anyway, for me." Helga replied, trying not to shiver when she said Arnold, another habit she was hoping to break.

Candy didn't reply at first, she merely looked at Helga from the corner of her eye, and smiled that wicked little smile that made you think she knew everything about you that no one, not even you are supposed to know.

"What?" Helga asked, just trying to shake Candy's gaze that seemed to be locked on her.

"Will you quit that "I'm an innocent little transfer student" bit, and admit that you like him." Candy said, without the least bit of remorse. Not that she really needed any, part of what she said was true. Since Helga arrived here, she was putting up a sort of façade, even if it wasn't necessarily that of an innocent transfer student.

"I don't even know this guy…come on, Candy." Helga replied, almost certain she had a rock solid defense this time.

"Oh, I see how it is, _today._" Candy said, replacing her smile with two rows of gleaming white teeth.

"How what is?" Helga asked, beginning to question Candy's sanity level…again.

"See yesterday, it was…", Candy began, taking lock of her brown hair and twirling it around her forefinger. "I hardly even know him, and I have a boyfriend." she said, in a southern belle accent.

"First of all, Cain-dee, I don't talk like that. And second,… never mind." Helga said, turning back around to see Mr. Rowe trudge back into the room. He'd left for a minute, but in the short time, the class had gone into full out pandemonium. He never seemed to mind, he'd just sit behind his desk and read the paper, or play solitaire on his laptop.

"No, something's up, tell me…" Candy inquired, scooting her chair up a few more inches.

"Guess what?"

"I really wish you would stop doing that. I never guess, anyway."

"Well, yesterday, Candy was telling me about this girl who just moved here from…Maine or some place like that."

"Uh-huh…"

"But yesterday I saw her in the park, and she said she's lived here for years…"

"Uh-huh…"

"And then an orangutan started to break dance on my front lawn…"

"Uh-huh…"

"Are you even listening?", Arnold asked, who was now getting slightly perturbed.

"What does it matter? So some new girl lied. Big deal. That's another thing you need to quit."

"What?", Arnold asked, curious to know more of his flaws. Gerald had known him as long as he could remember, and if he said Arnold needed to do something, there was a high chance that he really did need to change it.

"This…obsession with new girls." Gerald replied, not looking up from his magazine. He was on the verge (5 months, 13 days) from being able to legally operate a motor vehicle (with someone 21 or older in the front seat) and was hoping to get his hands on a 1968 Chevy Camaro, he'd be set.

"What are you talking about?", Arnold asked, not quite getting the gist of Gerald's theory.

"Every time a new girl moves here, you have this…habit of falling in love with them, and making yourself into a complete idiot." Gerald said. He knew beforehand that the truth would be harsh and brutal, but then again, so is cough syrup.

"That doesn't _always_ happen to me, Gerald." Arnold retorted, knowing his next word would send all assumptions that Gerald may have had, spiraling down the toilet.

"Name on occasion where you haven't turned into Jell-o after knowing a girl for thirty seconds." Gerald said, completely unaware of Arnold's memory.

"Chloe.", Arnold stated smiling, knowing he had gotten the better of Gerald.

Gerald however, now abandoning his magazine, was not laughing. In fact, he was barely smiling at all. "See, I don't get why you have to keep bringing that up, Arnold." Gerald finally said, laughing it off.

"Hmm, I don't know…", Arnold said sarcastically. "Maybe it's the fact that you declared your love for Chloe three seconds after you met her, and you still don't have the guts to talk to Phoebe in public." Arnold was never one to expose the flaws of others, but Gerald had more than enough chances to break the preverbal ice.

Gerald didn't reply, but made a slight grunt, and went back to reading. Mr. Rowe was tapping his pointer on the dry erase board, but no one seemed to be paying attention.

"Okay, so your best friend is dating a guy with the same name as your boyfriend, big deal." Candy said, expecting it to be more than that.

"And he goes to the same school, and her little brother knows him." Helga added, hoping it would aid in her defense.

"Okay, but what are you going do about it? You're all the way here, and they're in Vermont." Candy said.

"Easy, Kirsten's voice gets really high when she's really happy. All I have to do is hear her voice, imitate it, and call my boyfriend. I'll make up some fake date or whatever, if he denies it, he's clean. If not, they're both busted." Helga finished, sitting back, feeling very pleased with her plan. There were very few if any holes in it, and if worse came to worse, which it very well might have, she'd find a way to slip out. She always did.

I know this one's short, but I'm saving the surprise for the next chapter! Oh, the surprises I have for you! Anyway, I get most of my ideas from real life experiences and people. When I wrote this story, the character Kirsten was supposed to be Kristen (a friend of mine), but I misspelled it and my spell check passed it by. But the character Danny is really named after her brother Danny, so this one's for you guys!

Something else I was going to say: I won't be updating "Ruthless" or "Back Home" until the end of August. Most of August will find me on vacation, but I'll be writing the whole time and have a fresh new chapter for you by September at the latest. Hope you enjoyed this one!!! Please Review!

-Pointy Objects


	10. Through the Roof

Chapter Ten! I made some changes to this one recently, so bear with me! We're still under construction for some parts, and thus, this chapter will probably be short. Um, that's about all. Read and review, please! Thank You…

Chapter Ten: Through the Roof

"It's almost four-thirty, you know."

Even when Olga attempted to use slang, she couldn't quite use it as it was supposed to be.

This had been about the fourth time Olga had mentioned the time in the past hour. She certainly didn't want to pressure Helga into leaving too soon. She also didn't want Helga to be late for her first day of work.

"I'll leave in exactly three minutes…" Helga said keeping her eyes locked on Olga's milky-white phone, which sat idly, and silently on the coffee table in the center of the room. Helga was hoping to get a phone call from Kirsten before she had to leave. This would ensure plenty of practice time and a withdrawal, if it were necessary. Either way, Helga would have been able to mimic her voice without really hearing it. But there was always the off chance that her voice may have changed a little. Bronchitis, pneumonia, a cold, any of these could trigger the slightest change in Kirsten's voice that Helga had not known about. Her plan could fall apart as quickly as it was formulated.

Finally giving in, Helga retreated back into her room, and reentered the room a minute or so later, dressed almost identically to what she'd worn to school that day. The only article of clothing that she changed was her shirt, which was stained earlier in the day by a hotdog, too much mustard, and a clumsy senior. Her new shirt was Kelly green, with the words "Spaulding Water Polo" written in embroidered white letters under the left collar. She found it funny that she'd be wearing such a shirt, when she was just trying to catch her boyfriend in a web of infidelity. Either way, the shirt was clean and she needed something to wear.

"Bye Olga…" Helga said, her right hand already clutching the metal door handle in preparation to leave.

"Ten o'clock sharp." Olga said, not looking up from the stack of test papers she'd been grading since she got home.

Instead of the elevator, Helga vouched for the stairs, which seemed slightly safer for some reason. They had an eerie scent, but as long as she kept walking, she felt certain she could elude it. It had the strange hybrid stench of gasoline, cat fur, and new shoes. As soon as she got outside, Helga took a deep breath, which she hadn't done since she entered the stairwell.

Remembering her path through the park and past two more streets. After a moment of contemplation, Helga figured it wasn't too far to walk, and she could get there within ten minutes if she left on time.

Arriving back on Vine Street, Helga took another deep breath, and stared straight and cautiously ahead, until she got to the flower shop, where she almost tripped and fell on a crack between the squares of concrete that was the sidewalk.

Hoping to find somebody within today, Helga opened the door, and beckoned for anyone inside to make his or her presence known. Without any reply, Helga timidly made her way in, and spotted a plain metal chair, which she set her bag and papers. Turning around, she heard a sound from behind the greenhouse that was attached to the store, just before Ms. Vitello emerged, struggling with a large bag. Helga walked over, making her own presence evident and attempted to help.

"Well, you're early. That's good. Do you mind helping me with this?" She asked, motioning to the large, black suitcase she had in tow. Helga grabbed at it by its handle, and attempted to lift it outside. In an instant, a bright yellow taxicab pulled up in front of the Flower Shop. The floor of the shop was mopped and waxed clean, making the suitcase easy to wheel outside. Lifting the bag into the trunk of the cab, which was already opened (to her convenience) by the cab driver, Helga felt the last of the afternoon sun on the nape of her neck. The thought of being alone in the shop made her a little nervous. She was free to make pointless mistakes and slip-ups, with no one to help or correct her. If she made a big enough mistake, she could cause the downfall of the business. Not exactly a comforting thought.

Waving off her cab, Helga tried to brush off the nervous look that made its way across her face. She was accustomed to being alone, that wasn't much of a problem. The fact that she had to wait for some…somebody to come into the store and train her was the problem. And when she really thought about it, this guy could be anybody.

'She did, after all, hire me after a fifteen minute interview. Who knows whom this guy could be? A convicted felon? A mass murderer? A very, very…strange man?'

The thoughts flooded her mind as she noticed movement from across the street out of the corner of her eye. Ducking down, Helga stayed absolutely silent; hoping that the person she saw was not headed in her direction. And even if this person were heading in her direction, this person would notice nobody was in the flower shop, and return wherever it is that they came from.

Helga's calves and ankles began to ache from her crouched position, and only intensified when the tiny bell above the door chimed and signaled the entrance of a potential customer. Helga hoped that she remained invisible. No such luck.

"What are you doing down there?" bellowed the voice from above that was now staring down Helga's back. The voice was all too familiar, causing Helga to delay getting up. She'd spent most of the afternoon trying to rid herself of anything that would have made her visible as Helga rather than Annabelle. After trying (and failing) to destroy the one thing that she'd kept of her father's without choice, she hurled Olga's tweezers across the bathroom and settled for wearing her elongated bangs over her face in hopes of drawing attention away from her now insufferable uni-brow. Contemplating this made her lose track of how long she'd been slouched over the floor, and the pain it brought about in her legs.

"Hello?" rang out the voice again. There was no escaping it, she had a customer and at the risk of the flower shop, she had to help them.

"Hi, how may I help you?" she said, popping up from behind the register like a felt covered sock in a kiddy puppet show. Instead of a portly woman asking for 3-dozen roses, which is what she had expected, she saw somebody disappear behind the door-less entrance that was clearly marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. From around the corner, she heard the voice reply:

"Evidently not."

Despite the fact that she was brand-new, and hadn't been back there either she said, with the wrath of an overworked supervisor:

"You can't go back there! It's for employees…oh…"

Her composure was cut short by the sight of the last possible person she'd ever expected, picking up a faded green smock and slipping it over his wide head.

"Yo…you…you don't work here." Helga said, placing her hand on her hip before it collapsed and sent her to the ground. She repeated the sentence over and over in her head. 'Arnold doesn't work here…Arnold doesn't work here…Arnold doesn't work here…'

He looked back at her defiantly. She had after all just declared that he did not work where he was certain he did work. "Really?" he asked, not the least bit phased by her outburst.

"Do you work here?" Helga asked, hoping that during her absence, Arnold had been diagnosed with hallucination and Ms. Vitello had let him walk around watering plants to feed the disease. Or maybe her internal memory was begging to be restored, and knew that Arnold was one of the few pivotal keys that could release it.

"If you call working a reasonable amount of manual labor for a fare just above minimum wage, then yes…I work here."

It was all she could take not to scream right then and there. She was now fully convinced that there was some force that was punishing her for lying to practically everyone she'd met.

Before Helga could take advantage of her opportunity to think out loud, Arnold spoke.

"So, I see you took my advice after all."

"No", Helga protested. "It just so happens that I saw an ad for a job, the same job you happened to suggest to me earlier. Frankly, if I'd known you worked here, I wouldn't have come." Opportunity taken.

"Wow, talk about judgmental.", Arnold retorted, turning away.

"What?" Helga asked. She knew she'd dug herself into a hole, but she thought it best to know if there was any chance of finding a shovel.

"You don't even know me, and yet you assume that working here will be torture because I work here. Judgmental." he snapped.

"Crimeny, Arnold. This isn't about you! I just don't li-"

"How'd you know my name?" Arnold asked, interrupting.

Opportunity Number two taken. Three if she were to count the "Crimeny" that somehow slipped, which she didn't.

"Candy told me. And it's on your smock." Nice save girl…

Arnold didn't need to look down to realize that she was right. He'd kept the vinyl nametag pinned to the same pale green smock and barely if ever removed it. Before he could make any objections, Helga decided to speak again.

"I'm sorry, but it's honestly not about you. I just don't really like meeting people, particularly those my own age. Okay?"

"I see. We'll just have to assign you something that doesn't deal with people.," he said, pushing her into the back room and standing her in front of a long row of various flowers and plants. "These flowers require a lot of water. You'll probably want to use the can for these."

With that, a large plastic watering can was shoved into her hands, obviously filled with water. Arnold moved her another few feet down the line to a group of considerably smaller plants, while Arnold explained the watering requirements for these. "You can use the can for these, but I suggest using the overhead sprayer. They're adapted to these sorts of plants."

"Is that all?" Helga asked, hoping that watering plants didn't get any more complicated than putting water on them.

Inching her down to the end of the row, he elucidated the doses for the plants sloppily labeled "Fragile" with a black permanent marker. "These are the easiest to water. Here, gimme your hand."

Helga watched as Arnold took her hand and shaped it so that it looked as though she were pointing forward. The warmth of her hand paralleled the cold of the watering can water as her entire index finger was immersed and pulled out. The water dripped off of her finger and over the soft potting soil of a budding plant nearest to her.

"That's all?" Helga asked, wiping her now free hand on the bottom of her smock.

"Anymore water and they'll drown." he said. His head quickly turned towards the front of the store. "Customer. You stay here." he said, leaving her alone in the damp room. With the watering can in tow, Helga decided to start with the plants that needed the most amount of water. The first group went successfully, with her barely reaching the back three potted plants. The second group however had the most plants of the other categories, and thus had most of them situated farther back.

After a failed attempt to crawl under the stands of plants, she decided to try out the overhead sprayer. The amount of water was already set; all she seemed to have to do was turn it on. The most obvious thing to do was to simply press the "On" button, colored bright orange. Over the button was a container of water that showed how much water the machine contained and if it needed to be refilled. After igniting it several times, no response was made. Turning one of the four nozzles towards her, she inspected the caked-on dirt that prevented any water from escaping. After cleaning all of the four nozzles, she tried the sprayers again and was happy that the water level in the container began to drop.

"That'll be fourteen ninety-two."

Arnold took the portly woman's money, and counted out her change before handing it to her.

"You have a nice da-" Arnold began, until a short shriek was heard from the back, followed by a dull, yet audible thud. The first thing that came to mind was the plant stands that Ms. Vitello was planning to replace because of their age and obvious wear. Bidding goodbye to his customer, he rounded the corner and began to snicker at the apparent comedy of the sight.

Helga lay on the floor with one hand reaching for the back of her head and the other for something to pull herself up with. From the water that saturated her smock, shirt, hair and the thighs of her pants, the dilemma was evident.

"Lemme guess…" he began, leaning on the doorpost. "You tried…adjusting-"

"Cleaning.", Helga corrected.

"You tried cleaning the nozzles, and forgot to put them back, thus spraying 34 degree water all over yourself. Am I right?" he asked, still grinning.

"More or less." Helga admitted, still making motions to get up. Arnold eventually grabbed her forearm and pulled her upwards. She stood up and tried to brush off any remaining water from her clothes and face, but most of the water on her clothes was already absorbed, and the water on her face had already begun dripping down her chin and neck.

"Okay, then. I'll deal with the plants and you take this customer. You know how to enter numbers in the register, right?" he asked, as a bell chimed out front signaling an impatient customer.

"Yeah, I've cashiered before", Helga replied, trying not to sound conceited. Still brushing at her smock, she tried not to make it too noticeable that she was almost drenched. Focusing on her impending customer, she uttered the same greeting, while refurbishing it to fit Ms. Vitello's flower shop.

"Welcome to Vitello Flowers, how may I help you?" she recited, plastering the most toothy smile she could concoct without looking phony. However, her smile soon faded, and was replaced with a look of boredom and disdain. "What are you doing here?" she asked, disregarding any customer friendliness for the sheer fact that she did not feel like being friendly with this customer.

"May I say, Ms. Annabelle, that you are looking as lovely as one of your "Buy A Dozen, Get The 13th Rose Free Sale" roses."

"Wow. Good one, Sean. Maybe you can make yourself useful, or better yet, you can just leave. Either way you'll be out of my hair." Helga said sarcastically.

"And what lovely hair it is. I am saddened, however, that you so detest my company, when I so enjoy yours." After a second, he began to laugh at his own ridiculous joke. "Can ya tell I've been reading Shakespeare? Anyway, what's up?" he asked, leaning over the counter and breaching Helga's personal space.

"Can you just buy something and leave? I'm working…" Helga pleaded, leaning back.

"All right. I'll have one dozen roses, please." Sean requested, maintaining his inclined stance over the countertop. "And one of those funny little chocolates in a heart-shaped box."

Helga rolled her eyes and stepped from behind the counter, not realizing that Sean's eyes followed her as she reached into the large sized refrigerator made especially for florists to store unpotted plants and flowers. She tried not to drop the flowers on the counter, so as not to bruise them. Next to them, however, she did not hesitate to forcefully set down the red, heart-shaped box and resume her position behind the cash register.

Typing the numbers on the bottom of the box of chocolates and on the side of the cellophane wrapped roses, she bagged the chocolates and announced the price. "With tax, that's seventeen dollars and twelve cents." She held out her hand, eager to accept his money and have him exit the shop.

"What? No discount for a close acquaintance?" he asked. Her stagnate gaze said now, and he handed her a crisp, twenty-dollar bill. "Keep the change, sweetheart."

'Ugh…' Helga winced as the register jolted open and she placed the money inside. She placed the receipt in the bag with the chocolates and handed him the bag, managing to avoid having any physical contact with him. Turning away, she figured she'd say goodbye, just to let him now that this and any other conversations were over. "Bye."

She heard a faint goodbye, and the sound of the bell over the front door chiming, indicating Sean's departure. In the back, she noticed that Arnold had mopped up the water surrounding the plant stands, and readjusted the nozzles to point towards the plants. In light of her first major screw-up, Helga took it upon herself to sweep the front of the shop and the sidewalk surrounding it.

Back inside the store, Helga rested the broom on one wall and slumped into a nearby metal-folding chair. She looked at the counter, which was practically spotless, minus an empty bag. Figuring that she'd lazily placed a piece of trash on that counter and forgotten, she walked up to the counter to throw away the refuse. To her surprise, the bag was neither trash, nor empty. Peering inside, she saw a red heart-shaped box of chocolates and a slip of paper, most likely a receipt.

Heading towards the back, Helga met Arnold at the door.

"Did you ring someone up while I was outside?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip.

"What were you doing outside?" he asked, ignoring her question altogether.

"Sweeping. Did you?" she asked again.

"Nope." he replied, peeking over her shoulder, clearly at the bag on the counter. "Whose are those?"

"I don't know. I rang up some guy a while ago, but I doubt this is his." Helga said. She went back around to the other side of the counter and dumped the contents of the bag onto the beige countertop.

Arnold snatched the receipt off of the counter and read quickly. "Do you remember what time you scanned his purchase?" he asked, still reading over the tiny print.

"I dunno. It was a while ago. Why?" Helga asked, stepping closer. Something on the receipt was interesting enough.

"5:32 PM?" he asked, holding the thin slip of paper out to her.

"Yeah, but it can't be him. He bought roses, and there weren't any on the counter when I came back inside." Helga said, skimming her eyes over the countertop to make sure that she hadn't missed anything.

"Hold on…" Arnold said, walking out in front of her and over to the fridge. Unlike her, he was tall enough hat he did not have to stand tiptoed to reach all of the roses. Helga couldn't see from where she was standing, but he seemed to be checking something on all of the roses, until he pulled out a dozen wrapped in cellophane, much like the others, and handed it to Helga. "What do you notice about these dozen roses?"

Helga looked quizzically at the flowers. They didn't look any different from any other roses that she had seen that day. They were red, like many of the others in the fridge, and they were dotted with Baby's Breath, also like the others. There was no discernable difference to be made.

Arnold read her confused expression and felt the need to elaborate. "Look closely."

The most obvious thing that she could think to do was to count. 'One, Two…Five, Six…Eleven, Twelve…Thirteen? Why are there thirteen roses in this bunch?' Helga looked up at Arnold, questioning him with her eyes.

"Now, why would there be thirteen roses in that dozen, and twelve in all the others?" he asked, sounding more like a defense attorney than a florist's apprentice. "Because…" he started answering his own question. "Because someone bought these roses and put them back." He took the roses from Helga and flipped open the business card sized piece of paper over and grinned at the writing. Helga had neglected to notice it, but was now curious as to what it said.

"What? What does it say?" Helga said, letting her anticipation out into the air.

"It's just that…I've been working here officially since I was thirteen and I've never seen anything like this. Pretty creative, when you think about it."

"What? What's pretty creative?" Helga asked, inwardly unwilling to inch any closer to him, but still impatient about what was written.

"The guy you rang up…was his name…Sean?" Arnold asked, a wicked grin still plastered on his face.

"Yeah…" Helga replied, suspicious of how he would know that. It was possible that Arnold had just heard she and Sean talking while she rang him up. But that would entail Arnold knowing Sean, and she wasn't keen on the idea of them being in the same group of friends.

"Here." Arnold said, handing her the entire bouquet and waiting for her to read it.

Helga's eyes widened as she read the tiny card, and heat gathered behind her ears.

A Dozen roses,  
A chocalate treat,  
All for the love of my Annabelle sweet.

Sean S.

"Ugh!", Helga said, crumpling the now insignificant card with one fist and hurling it into the nearest trashcan. Storming towards the back room, Helga jabbed her index finger into the watering can of water and held it over each plant until her finger was bone dry.

"Come on, I think it was sweet…", Arnold, joked.

"It was not sweet. It was disgusting and a waste of time.", Helga replied, not taking her eyes off of her newly dipped finger, dangling over a budding plant, modestly dressed in one tiny leaf.

"Here's how I see it. We just made 17.12, and have more inventory than we need. From the looks of it, he wasted money and you won." Arnold said, his "bright side" theology resurfacing.

"Either way, if he drops by here again, he can write you all the love notes he wants.", Helga retorted. "Can't even spell chocolate, the moron…", she mumbled, under her breath.

"I think you've had enough for one day." Arnold said, laughing, and walking over to her. "I can finish cleaning up, and we usually don't have many customers after 6:30, and if we do, I wouldn't want you biting any heads off."

Helga decided against arguing to stay, and removed her moist smock, and hung it up on a hook, by the employee bathroom. Uttering a muffled "Thank You", she placed her coat over her shoulders and headed towards the front door of the shop. "And sorry about the whole water sprayer thing.", she said at the door.

"It's okay. I broke two vases my first day. No problem.", he said, before bidding her goodbye.

The walk home was shorter now that she had an idea as to which way she was to go. Slumping against the inside of the elevator, Helga thought about what to do for the rest of her night. She could try calling Kirsten again, but then decided against it. She'd had enough drama for the night to last her the rest of the year.

While inserting her key into the keyhole, Helga wondered what Olga had made for dinner. Mumbling to herself, she opened the door to a darkened living room. The window was closed, but the blinds were open, and slits of light drained in and spilled onto the floor. The house was mostly silent, minus some sounds that Helga couldn't identify. She blamed the television in Olga's room, and groped along the wall for the light switch. As soon as she turned it on, though, she immediately turned it back off. Somehow, in her head, her introduction to Drew went…differently.

"I'mreallysorryIgotoffworkearlyandI'msorryI'llbeinmyroombye." Helga said, not bothering to pause in her words or on the way to her room. Shutting the door, she fell onto the floor and covered her mouth, attempting not to laugh. She distracted herself with cleaning her room and starting on the little bit of homework she was assigned. She'd barely begun when Olga knocked on the door and let herself in.

"Helga…"

"Olga…", Helga replied, still stifling a laugh.

"As you may have already known…that was Drew…"

"I had an inkling." Helga said, smiling.

"Look, you're old enough to-"

"Olga,", Helga said, trying to calm her down. "It's totally cool. I should have called, and it's your house anyway."

"But-"

"But, it's your house. So do whatever you want, and tell Drew I said 'Hi'", Helga said.

"You're a lot more mature than I give you credit for. Goodnight." Olga said, slipping out of the room. Helga decided to shower in the morning and went to bed immediately after changing.

Yes, the ending is kinda lame, but I love it. And there's inspiration coming out the whazzoo. Not like that you sicko's! Anyway, sorry about how long it took to get this up. My computer broke about 4 times since July, and a bunch of other stuff. Don't worry, updates will be more frequent, all I need are reviews! Peace out


	11. Spiderwebs

Chapter Eleven: Spiderwebs

"So…"

"So…?"

"So how was your first day a la trabajador?" Candy's step mom (Or DragonLady as she loved to refer to her as) had recently hired a private Spanish tutor for her, after an unfortunate "D" in the class last semester. Candy was, at first adamant about the thought of a tutor, and for good reason. Her last tutor had a head of thinning gray hair, a similar crooked line of hair shadowing their upper lip, and a "dirty laundry" scent that followed them into every room they passed. No, Ms. Marshall was not someone you wanted in your house, let alone to have taught you. This time, however, her stepmother, still seeking to breach Candy's good side, had employed Michael Pierce, a member of the Spanish Honor Society in a magnet school in north Hillsdale. Although the thought of having a tutor her own age was enticing, his shaggy, brown hair, green-gray eyes and it's-Practically-Winter-and-I've-Still-Got-My-Summer-Tan, didn't hurt either.

"Do you realize you just said 'How was your first day at the working hard?'", Helga said, stopping for a moment, her book in midair.

"Who cares, how was it?" Candy asked again, continuing with the task at hand, namely replacing a gray cart of books onto the library shelves.

"It was…ugh…" She replied, pushing the books in with such force that the books on the other side of the shelf moved.

"What happened?" Candy asked, full of questions that day. She'd already found out that Helga's place of employment was the same that she and Arnold had suggested, but that fact didn't seem like enough to merit her day as "ugh".

"Well despite the obvious coincidence of being stuck in a job with Arnold, I had to spend forever learning how to water plants-"

"Water Plants? Wow, looks like you need the tutor more than I do…" Candy joked, moving farther down the aisle.

"All the plants need different doses. Like prescription medicine, or something. Anyway, a blast of icy water from an overhead sprayer, a visit from your brother-"

"Stepbrother. STEP-BROTHER. He came by the shop yesterday?"

"Yeah.", Helga said, her voice already dripping with disdain.

"No way, that's awesome!" Candy replied, obviously ecstatic.

"Maybe for you." Helga said, wondering why Candy was so happy that Sean had paid her a visit. Maybe it was the fact that, even for a few minutes, he was not home.

"Did you see what he was driving when he pulled up?" Candy asked, her laughter subsiding, but only minimally.

"No. He has his license?" Helga asked, in reply. If Sean was as young as he acted, she wouldn't have been surprised if her wore a diaper under those poster-boy jeans.

"No. My dad caught him driving his pickup truck home, but he wouldn't tell him where he went. This is great, I finally have dirt on him!" Candy said, laughing again and narrowing her eyes in a heinous way that scared Helga a little.

"I'm so happy for you.", Helga said, resuming her work.

"So why was he there anyway?" Candy asked, snapped out of her devious daze.

"I dunno, he bought flowers and candy."

"Gross…" Candy said, hopping on one foot to place a book on the second highest shelf in that row of the Non-Fiction books. Candy was "short", no more than five foot two inches tall. Her personality, however, was probably 6 feet high. She was often loud and energetic, and never at a loss for words. Most evident, nonetheless, was that she was opinionated. Even when someone didn't quite agree with her opinion, she'd plant the tiniest seed of doubt in your mind. "My stepbrother likes you…"

"What? That's not only ridiculous, that's disgusting; vile even."

"It does explain some things, though…" Candy said, knowing that she was slowly but surely drawing Helga in more and more.

"Like…?" Helga asked.

Hook, Line, Sinker. "Well, he just sort of…mentions you sometimes…a lot…"

"A lot?" Helga repeated.

"Oh yeah," Candy said, getting a little carried away. Sean had told her about his interest in Annabelle, and Candy knew he'd try some stupidly charming trick to get her attention. "At first he'd just make fun of you, or whatever. Now it's like 'Does she have any classes with you? How old is she? What's her last name?', ya know, stupid stuff. "

"Ugh, that's gross." Helga said, kneeling on the ground to pick up a book that had slid under a beige colored shelf. Her extended arm returned holding the book and covered in a thin layer of dust.

"I know, your arm is filthy." Candy stated.

"Not that, I meant your brother."

"Stepbrother. I told you, I'm not related to that thing."

"Whatever, think we're done yet?" Helga asked, bored with the chore.

"Who cares; we did our time let's go."

"Good job, girls."

Helga and Candy wheeled to face Mrs. Voss, the head librarian, and notorious worst-dressed teacher in the school. Her attire usually consisted of her hair, brown, sprinkled with silvery gray, cut short in flat curls. She wore her pants high, but not regular high. She wore these in the Jaleel-White-as-Steve-Urkel style. Add a floppy blouse and too big glasses, and you have Mrs. Voss.

"Ms…" she began, waiting for Candy and Helga, Candy in particular, to fill in the blank.

"Candy." she replied, sugary and perky as the name itself.

"Ms. Candy and Ms…" She'd evidently not been well with names. She'd known them perfectly well half an hour ago when she bellowed them throughout the library.

"Annabelle." Helga answered. For the first week of her name/alias, she'd practically cringe when anyone said it. She knew she was lying, not just to 99.8 of the student and faculty body (save Dr. Phelps), but had also conveniently forgotten to tell Olga about any of this, and for obvious reasons. Olga opening her home to Helga was a stroke of good grace, and letting her sister know that she'd rejected her family's name, and Olga's as well, wasn't the best way to rekindle a sister/sister relationship.

"Well, Ms. Candy and Ms. Annabelle, I certainly hope that this will keep the two of you from any excessive talking while in the library." Her statement was met with identical, disgruntled replies of "yes". "And I hope you, in particular Ms. Candy have learned that checking e-mail is not permitted on any of the school's computers."

"Understood." Candy replied, her eyes cast as upwards as possible, while still exposing the green rings of her eyes.

As soon as Mrs. Voss was out of earshot, Candy turned back to Helga. "Can we go now? This place smells, and I think I'm getting claustrophobic."

"I'll be out in a second." Helga said. Candy shrugged her shoulders in reply and exited the library.

Helga skimmed the aisles again, looking for a green book that was purposefully sticking out of a group of other books. While replacing the cart of returned books, Helga recognized the book and made a note to pick it up and spend the remainder of her lunch reading it. She'd see Candy in last period, anyway.

"I hate it when a job is half done…" said the standing being, mockingly dangling a green bound book in front of Helga's nose.

Snatching at the book, Helga couldn't help but try to flash Sean one of her evil glares. He remained unaffected as each time to grabbed for the book, he drew it farther and farther behind him; first and inch, then two, until her forehead was a few inches from his nose.

"Forget it then…", Helga said, getting the gist of his little "game" and retreating to the other side of the library. Expectedly, he followed, talking all the way.

"So…did you get my roses?", he asked, catching up with her quickly.

"I don't really like roses…"Helga replied, still walking, lest Ms. Voss attack again, but still quickening her pace.

"Anything else you don't like? Just so I know nex-"

"Well, let's see…Avril Lavigne, bad romantic comedies, oh yeah, and…you." Helga said, flashing a cheesy smile for a split second before turning and continuing towards the librarian's desk. A tug at her right arm stopped her in her tracks.

"I still can't understand what on earth-"

For the second time in their brief conversation, Helga interrupted Sean mid-sentence. Only this time, she didn't do so with her words. Since his free hand was wrapped around her wrist, she took the opportunity to snatch the book from his other hand, and strike him on the side of the head with it, with just the right amount of force. Too gently, and it would have been seen as flirting. Any harder and she might have caused more brain damage then he already had.

"Next time," she said, already turning away. "You can try keeping your hands off of me."

Lingering back until everyone at the front counter had dissipated, Helga walked up to the librarian and slid her book across the table. "Checkout, please." she muttered. No need to get the librarians worked up if she suddenly dropped her tone when they asked her anything else.

"Alright, last name please." the librarian, whose name she failed to get, asked.

"Pataki." she replied.

"And first?"

The second person in the school to know her name, her real name, was going to be a librarian. The only down side to this was that this school official didn't have any confidentiality vows to abide by.

"Helga." Helga said, in an even lower voice.

"Okay…one moment please…" the librarian said, punching in numbers and scanning the barcode of the book with a small gray device. "Due back in 4 weeks."

"Thanks…" Helga said, exiting the library, and picking up her book bag from a nearby chair on the way out.

Once outside, Helga let out the breath she'd been holding for most of the past 4 minutes. Going to Annabelle from Helga took longer than she thought, but still shortened the more she did it. Unfortunately, her newly freed breath was about to return to captivity.

"I saw that…"

"Saw what?" she asked. He couldn't mean what she thought it meant. Seeing something doesn't mean hearing it. Arnold could have seen her lean in when she told the librarian her real name, but that doesn't mean he necessarily heard it. He could have seen the librarian type something into the computer on her desk, but that doesn't mean he actually saw what it was that she typed. Besides, she checked all around the desk…no one was there.

"That thing with Sean. Pretty bold, if I do say so myself." Arnold said, arms crossed, leaning on the wall next to the library.

"I guess…" Helga said, beginning to walk away. All she needed was to say too much, and blow her cover.

"Frankly, I'd like to know the same thing." Arnold said, not moving.

"Know what?" It seemed as though she'd be asking all the questions today.

"Why you don't like Sean. I mean, sure he's pig-headed, but he's loaded. That and his looks usually make girls ignore his…less than humble attitude."

"Correction, Arnold. Some girls go for that stuff. Honestly, I'm looking for a little more than a fat wallet and the emotional depth of a puddle." Helga retorted.

"There you go, again. Being judgmental…" Arnold replied, finally prying himself off of the wall, and walking towards Helga confidently.

Feeling slightly cornered, Helga began to raise her voice. "Judgmental! Last I checked he's the one coming to my place of employment and leaving flowers, and cornering me in the library, and…being weird. And from what you've just told me, he's probably tried this bit on several other girls, thinking that all will react in the same way. That, Arnold, is judgmental." Helga replied, now fuming.

"That sounds about right…"

"And if I know anything…" Helga continued. "He's been watching a large portion if not all of this conversation from over my shoulder."

Arnold glanced just above her shoulder. Sure enough, there was Sean, stealing the occasional, yet completely indiscreet glance at he and Helga. The sight made him smile before nodding back at Helga.

"Yeah, big surprise…" Helga said, walking towards the cafeteria and away from the drama that was…

* * *

"Sean…Sean? Sean!"

"Yeah,…what?"

Ms. Voss sighed from behind her desk, beckoning Sean to work. "Sean, if you're going to be a library aide, it'd help if you'd actually aide us."

"Sorry, Ms. V."

Ms. Voss began walking away, slightly annoyed, not only at the boy's lack of work ethic, but also his incessant use of that ridiculous nickname. Before she got far, he was calling her name again, this time in whole.

"What is it, Sean?" she replied, wearily. It was early afternoon, and she was already exhausted from the 4 English classes that had visited the library.

"Could I possibly use your computer? All the student one's have a weird firewall, and I need to look up something for my History class." he asked.

Most times, Ms. Voss would insist that he use one of the student computers. The firewalls and blocks were made by the state's board of education and kept student's from searching inappropriate sites, or exposing the school's computers to any viruses. But given her headache, and lack of aspirin, she decided to let him go ahead and use hers.

"Go ahead…but you know the rules."

"Thank you." Sean replied, in his most Wally Cleaver voice.

After Ms. Voss had moved from out of eyeshot and into the back office of the library, Sean went into the Library's Files, ass opposed to the Internet. Biting his lower lip and typing furiously, Sean stared at the computer screen, determined in his search. He muttered something to himself as his eyes began scanning the page. He didn't have to look far before seeing the words that darkened under the cursor.

MOST RECENT CHECKOUTS

Since the list was arranged by book title, and not by the name of the person who checked it out, all he had to do was remember what book she checked out. As soon as he saw the name, his memory kicked in. He was close.

DIGITAL FORTRESS,

AUTHOR: BROWN, DAN

Clicking on the book title, his face was as devilish as the Grinch's when the page went white and then refreshed itself, this time giving the name of the student who checked it out.

"Bingo." he said, glancing around him just before hitting the Print button. "I've got you now…"

* * *

"Olga, I'm home…" Helga bellowed, not really expecting a reply. She flopped her books down on the kitchen table and followed the enticing aromas into the kitchen.

"Hey, wash up will you…we're having company for dinner." Olga said, standing over the kitchen sink, scrubbing a bright orange carrot.

"Who's coming?" Helga asked, after drying her hands on an already damp dish towel.

"Drew, and a friend of yours…Sean."

Had Helga been holding a plate, it would have shattered. The damp dish rag hit the floor with a practically inaudible flop, but to Helga, it was the only noise she could hear. Olga's rambling about dinner was drowned out, first by the plummet of the towel, then by the words that reverberated in Helga's head:

"He knows…"

* * *

Mwahahahahahaha! I am the Queen of Cliffhangers! Not really, my friend Andrea advised me to stop it here. I really wanted to continue, but, Andi knows best. I know, I know, I was supposed to update Ruthless first, but I was so inspired tonight (Andi strikes again) that I had to. I promise, Ruthless is next. Okay. Now review…PLEASE!

P.S. I got the idea for Candy's tutor from an…odd place. The tutor's last name is my ex's middle name, and after we…parted ways, I was going to change it. But hen I was like "I'm not gonna let him affect my writing!" so I changed it back. Then we were friends for a while, so I kept it. Then he pissed me off, like REALLY pissed me off. So I changed it again. Then, another friend was getting all PMS on me for no reason, and he defended me, so I changed t back. And despite having shaggy hair, he's blonde, blue-eyed and is one of the palest people I've ever seen…the total opposite of Micheal Pierce. That's High School for ya…

Peace,

PointyO


	12. AKA Blackmail

Sorry about the long updates you guys! I've been sick (worse than sick, really, but I doubt you want to hear the details) and I haven't been on the computer in a while. For those of you on yahoo who may have tried to IM me and saw that I was logged on…yeah, that was my sister. She refuses to log off of my things. And if there are author alerts for stories that I haven't read, I'm sorry again, but it's not my fault! It was the bronchitis, sinuses, blah blah blah.

Other than that, just so you know, by the time you've read this, I will have become a legal adult. That's right! 18! Gimme a car! Okay, on with this thing…

Disclaimer (because I rarely remember them anyway): I do not own Hey Arnold…

Chapter Twelve: A.K.A Blackmail

"_The next one up  
A contemptible snob  
He lived to put things in their place  
He did a commendable job:  
He put himself so low  
He can hardly even look me in the face."_

_Fiona Apple "Get Him Back"_

"Wait…what?"

"What?" Olga replied, off into her own little world of big dinners and the company that would be partaking of it.

"What did you say?" Helga asked, snapping out of her daydream, which turned out to be more of a nightmare.

"I said, I was thinking about making a salad to go with the roast bee-"

"No." Helga interrupted. "Before that."

"Drew and your friend Sean are coming over for dinner." Olga stated simply.

"How on earth did that happen?" Helga asked, without really asking.

"Well, Drew and I were talking, and he's never met you and-"

"Yeah, that's great. What about the last part?" Helga asked, reminding herself to either not interrupt for the remainder of the conversation, or at least apologize for it later.

"Oh, well, Sean called after I got home from work, and it just happened." Olga said, obviously not realizing the panic in her younger sister's voice.

_No. Things like this just don't happen. Having your grand master lie fall apart around you doesn't just happen. _

"What'd he say?" Helga asked urgently, hoping to pry more information from her sister.

"Well, first, he asked to speak to you-" Olga began, barely getting anything out. If Helga really wanted to know so badly, her interruptions weren't convincing Olga.

"Speak to who?" Helga asked.

"Whom. And he asked to speak to you." Olga stated, obviously.

"He said _that_? He said may I speak to…" she said, hoping Olga would finish the sentence.

"You. Helga."

'_How does he know my name? How did he get the house number? Where did he get this information…?'_

"Anything else?" Helga asked, prying even more.

"I told him you weren't home, and he said he had something very important to tell you and that-"

"To tell me? Helga?"

"Yes. Please stop interrupting." Olga said.

"Sorry…"

"He said he had something important to tell you, so I told him you'd be home later and to come by and that he could stay for dinner." Olga said, finally finished.

"You invited him to dinner? _Here_?" Helga asked, hoping the last four minutes were a horrible dream.

"Yes. I don't see what the problem is…unless you like him…" Olga stated, shooting a knowing glance in her sister's direction.

"No! I can't stand him! And I cannot believe you invited him _here_ for dinner!" Helga bellowed, moving from the kitchen into the dining room.

"Well, what am I supposed to do, Helga? Call him up and say 'I'm very sorry, young man, but my sister's spontaneous outbursts have caused me to un-invite you to dinner tonight. Thank You!'" Olga said, holding her fingers up to the side of her face, pantomiming a phone. "No thank you."

"But-"

"Helga, no. Even if you 'can't stand' this boy," Olga began, mimicking Helga melodramatic tone. "It's only one night. I'm sure you'll survive." Olga then returned to chopping vegetables.

Inside her room, Helga went over the past few minutes, and how they could have occurred. From were she stood, her plan (and accompanying lie) was foolproof. She never kept any evidence of her real name lying around. He must have had an in with a teacher, seeing as Dr. Phelps would never rat her out.

Lying face down on her bed, she stared at the floor contemplating her frankly miserable situation. After a few minutes, she drifted off into an uncomfortable state of sleep.

"HELGA!"

Helga awoke abruptly, her vision obstructed in one eye from the mass of blonde hair that had fallen over her face. She could tell she had been sleeping for a while; her lights were off and the blinds opened, casting a blue tint into the room from the darkening sky.

"Crimeny, Olga…" She muttered, rolling over. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Helga propped herself up by her elbows, before remembering the scenario that took place before her nap.

Sean was coming.

Without much thought, Helga ran her fingers through her hair, mussing it more so than it already was, and stood. Looking down at herself, she saw that her pants and shirt were both wrinkled. In a frenzy to get to the bus stop in time, she'd thrown on her socks, without noticing or caring that they did not match. She was a mess in every sense of the word.

Perfect.

Walking out into the hallway confidently, Helga peered over the wall to the living room to see if Sean had arrived. She heard Olga moving around in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the night's meal. No one was in the living room or sitting at the dining table. Before she could dash into the bathroom to smudge some makeup over her face, Olga spoke again.

"Helga, what are you wearing?" Before Helga could reply, Olga pleaded her second command of the night. "Please, go change, Drew is on his way."

Back in her room, Helga silently cursed at Olga for messing up her plan. 'So much for turning him off…' Helga thought as she found a clean pair of pants and shirt. Reemerging, she donned a brown, short-sleeved T-shirt, and a pair of black jeans. In a moment of consideration for Olga, she managed to find a pair of matching socks, decorated with flying pigs.

"You must be Helga. Heard so much about you."

Helga was slightly startled by the voice that came from the living room couch, seeing as she hadn't heard anyone knock on the door while she was getting dressed. She returned with a polite smile to the stranger who so casually had his arm around the back of the couch that he'd probably sat on a million times.

Drew was almost as Olga had described him, only much taller. Helga had never seen anyone that tall up close, even though he was still sitting down. His hair was cut neatly, junior-executive style, and moussed to one side. His face was kind enough, though Helga knew that a kind face did not always make a kind person. But Olga liked him enough, and that was good enough for her.

Before Helga could offer her services to Olga with dinner, the doorbell rang. Helga's stomach emitted a sting all the way down to her toes, which could only be explained as a teacher asking you to pass up your test when you've just finished sleeping on it. Just as it was about to subside, Olga brought it back.

"Can you get that, Helga? It's probably your friend."

Helga managed to mutter an audible "He's not my friend!" before approaching the door. Peering out the peephole, Helga saw the current bane of her existence rocking back and forth on his heels.

In a moment of bravery, Helga shouted at the closed door. "We don't want any!" and walked back towards the kitchen. When Olga's gaze met hers, she shrugged her shoulders innocently. "Solicitors."

Olga walked to the door, as Helga walked into the farthest part of the kitchen. The last thing she wanted to see was…him enter her home.

"Helga, your guest is here…" Olga said, while the hinges of the front door released a tired creak.

'_You _invited him; he's _your _guest…' Helga thought, retreating from the kitchen. She tried not to wear her look of disdain so blatantly, but only so many things could be helped.

As Helga entered the room, she noticed a bouquet of red roses being thrust into Olga's hands. Olga turned the exact shade of the roses and turned to Helga, giving her a knowing look.

"…And these, are for you." Sean said, thrusting identical roses into her own hands. Helga counted them in her hand. Thirteen. For a spoiled rich kid, he sure did take advantage of sales. At least he remembered to bring them this time.

'Didn't I mention that I don't like roses?' Helga thought, mumbling a thank you, and excusing herself to put her "gift" in water. Back in the living room, Olga and Drew had already begun to question Sean "new-boyfriend" style, despite the fact that he was anything but. Helga leaned on the doorpost of the kitchen until she thought it was safe to speak.

"Whenever we can start eating…" Helga said. The sooner this dinner was over, the better. Not to mention her attitude was a sure fire way to end Sean's unwholesome obsession with her.

"Wonderful idea, sweet. May I use your bathroom first?" Sean asked pleasantly.

"Of course. Helga, will you show Sean where the bathroom is?" Olga said, already halfway in the kitchen and occupied with placing all the food in the center of the table.

Satisfied with grumbling down the hallway, Helga showed Sean where the bathroom was. As soon as she was out of eyeshot from Olga, Helga roughly pushed Sean into the empty bathroom and followed him in, fuming.

"Wanna tell me what exactly you're doing…_in my house_!" Helga said in a harsh whisper, trying not to alarm Drew or Olga.

"Why, I have no idea what you're talking about…_Helga…_" he replied, putting added stress on her name. He knew her secret, and he wasn't going to let her forget it.

Helga stepped back a little, not letting any intimidation show on her face. He held her secret, and she knew threatening him would only make it worse. "Well, that doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"Well," he began, a smug look already on his face. "I did initially come to let you know that I'm aware of your little secret, but by the look on your face, that news is already apparent." His answer was met with a low grumble from Helga, which he disregarded and continued speaking. "Besides a free meal, I'd also like to drop off…this." he said, handing her a sheet of paper. From the numbers lining the left side of the page and the spacing of each line, Helga could tell it was a list. But a list of what she wondered.

"What is this exactly?" Helga said, holding up the list as if it were a dirty diaper.

"That is my list of demands. Unless you want your secret all over the school, you'll adhere to them very closely."

"List of demands! Who the he-" Helga began, already enraged.

"Ah, ah, ah…" Sean interrupted, in a sing-song voice that was practically mocking Helga. "Rule number Seven, No cursing at me."

"Why this? Why a list of demands? Why not make me wash your car or…clean up after your dog, or something?" Helga asked. None of the tasks seemed too appealing to her, but she'd rather do them then follow a bunch of ridiculous rules.

"Well, mainly because I don't have a car and that stupid excuse for an animal belongs to Candy. Not only that…" he started, looking for the correct and least incriminating words. "You're…refusal of me has seemed to spread, and frankly…I find it rather embarrassing."

Helga stepped towards Sean, ready to hit him as hard as she liked, this time, not caring what damage she caused. "Are you saying you're going blackmail me to feed your ego?"

Completely unintimidated, Sean replied: "Pretty much."

"You can't do this." Helga said, crossing her arms.

"I'm not sure what it was that you did in your past to make you want to hide your identity. But, rest assured I _can _do this." he said, brushing past her and down the hallway.

Helga snatched a bright blue towel from off of the towel rack in the bathroom, and stifled a scream into it before joining Sean in the dining room.

"You won't believe it!"

Every time (which was virtually everyday) that Candy uttered those four fateful words, Helga was unsure if her tone denoted something good or bad. Unlike Helga, you couldn't tell how Candy was feeling by her face. She could change her expression at the drop of a hat.

"You're brother is being transferred to a military school in the south of Wales?" Helga said, monotone, and not really in the mood for any of Candy's good news. Good news for Helga was that everyone she may have known five years ago suddenly got amnesia and forgot about her. Good news for Candy was the last pair of Steve Madden round-toe heels with the little pink bows on the side were finally on sale. Candy wasn't superficial; she just cared about how she looked.

"No, although that wouldn't be bad news either…" Candy replied, getting instantaneously distracted. "Anyway, guess what? The Evil Language Sorceress decided to "surprise us with a quiz today!" Candy said, dramatically throwing her arms into the air.

"How'd you do?" Helga asked, getting straight to the point. The sooner she got out of this conversation, the sooner she could start explaining the night before. Unless Sean had beat her to it.

"89! I got an 89! Do you know what this means!"

"We just might graduate the same year?" Helga remarked, earning her a push on the arm from Candy.

"No…Mike said he'd take me out to dinner if I passed my next quiz…" Candy admitted, a crimson blush making its way to her cheeks.

"Yet another man falls prey to the infamous Candy…well, have fun." Helga said, turning towards her next class and ending the conversation, while forgetting that her next class was with Candy.

"Hey! I can't go alone!" Candy pleaded, standing with Helga outside the classroom.

"Of course you're not going alone! That's what Mike is there for…"

"You know how I am. I'd run out of things to talk about…" Candy said, painting her innocent face on; fully equipped with big shiny eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

"What do you want _me _to do?" Helga asked.

"We could double date! That way, if one of us gets stuck and has nothing to say, the other one can help that one out. We can save each other, Ann! Please?" Candy said. Though her plead made little sense, Helga understood where it may have been coming from. Despite her pity for Candy, there was one fatal flaw in her plan.

"Even if I did agree to go with you on this thing, we still have one problem. A double date is two people each being accompanied by a date of their own. _Four _people, Candy." Helga said, taking her seat.

Candy rolled her eyes at her friend's dense outlook on anything having to do with any sort of relationship with practically anyone. "That's no problem. We'll just find you someone to go with. Who do you like?"

Helga was almost baffled at Candy's ability to make something look like nothing. That with a little bit of brainstorming and some cunning, you can successfully dribble a football, train a cow to fly, and eat an entire tub of orange sherbet ice cream in 4 seconds without getting the slightest brain freeze.

"No one."

"That's impossible. We're in high school. Everyone likes _someone _in high school." Candy explained, as if she'd been in this business for decades as opposed to a year and a half.

Helga ran the palms of her hands down her face. Her usual pessimism wasn't working on this girl. "Candy, I really don't want to do this. Can't I just tag along or something?"

"No, that'd be weird if three people go on a date. You know what they say: Two's company, Three's a crowd."

"According to a popular 70's sitcom, three _is _considered company, so…"

"Ahh, darling…"

Helga cringed, knowing the voice behind her was the last one she wanted to hear, and its owner the last person she wanted to see. Trying to pretend like she didn't hear anything at all, Helga tried to continue her conversation with Candy, who was throwing suspicious glances at her.

"Oh yeah…hi Sean." Helga mumbled, turning around, facing the chalkboard with her back to both Candy and Sean. In truth, she couldn't bear to look at either of them. One out of sheer embarrassment, the other out of pure disdain.

"And good morning to you too, Sweetheart!" Sean piped up enthusiastically.

Despite Helga reminding him that their little "deal" would not include any physical contact, Sean knew that she wasn't going to break the deal and risk being exposed right out in the open, and decided to take advantage of this. Placing his right hand on her right shoulder, he drew her suddenly stiff body towards his and landed a peck on her left cheek. He felt the muscles in her cheek congeal into a frown, making him smile as he rose and took his seat in the front of the class.

As soon as Sean was at his seat, Helga began clawing at her face as if he'd planted a viral infection on her face rather than a kiss. The look of disdain and the kiss both shocked and confused Candy.

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

Candy shot Helga a glare before continuing. "You know what I mean. What was all that about with Sean?"

Helga painted on her most pleading face, which wasn't all that pleading, but it made Candy sit down in concern anyway. "I wanted to tell you before he did. I'm kinda…failing Geometry. And since he's really the only one who knows what's going on in that class, I asked for help. But the only way he would is if I pretended to be his girlfriend." Helga said the word with as much scorn as possible. The word itself bred a funny taste in her mouth. Like tasting the sour cream that's been in your fridge for quite a while because you think it might still be edible.

"And you agreed!"

"I had to! I can't fail Geometry; my sister would kill me…"

"I guess I understand that…are you sure there's no one else to help you?" Candy asked, seriously concerned now. Anyone who had the misfortune of dating, even if falsely her stepbrother deserved a second chance.

"All the other classes are studying different things. It's hopeless…" Helga added, a hint of teenage-angst-drama thrown in there.

"That sucks…" Candy began, biting a corner f her lip. "Hey, how about I-", Candy said, until her question was cut short by another question.

"May I ask what is so interesting that it has to interrupt my lecture?"

Helga and Candy sat the remainder of class in silence. The only sounds that Helga could hear was the nail file that kept going back and forth over Candy's fingernails and the occasional breeze that came from Candy blowing away the dust that her filing produced. Helga, on the other hand was replaying her evening in her head, remembering every sickening detail.

"So, how do you know Sean?" Drew asked. Since Sean had entered the apartment, Drew had been watching Helga. The looks on her face, her tone of voice and her gestures told him that she'd rather be testing a fresh car battery with her tongue than have dinner with Sean.

"School and stuff." Helga said, stabbing her roast beef in way that would maim it for life if it weren't already dead.

"We have several classes together." Sean commented, making sure to flash his Colgate-Ad smile across the table. Helga wanted to shove her salad in his face and drown him in ranch dressing, but knew how Olga would feel about the stains it would leave. "And may I say that dinner is absolutely delicious."

Helga's sigh was audible this time, but Olga just ignored it, replied sweetly and thanked Sean for the compliment and the roses.

Well, Helga was so appreciative of hers; I figured her sister would be as well."

"He's gotten you roses before!" Olga asked, in a voice high enough to Mariah Carey to shame. She didn't quite give Helga enough time to answer before her next outburst. "That's absolutely adorable!" she wailed, clasping her hands together and trapping them underneath her chin.

As Sean shrugged, feigning modesty, Helga stood abruptly and mumbled something about reheating her food. Inside the kitchen, Helga practically threw her plate into the microwave and set in on high for 5 minutes. Despite the dangers that Aunt Dee had told her (and probably exaggerated) about staring into a microwave, Helga took no chances and watched her food whirl around under the yellow light of her microwave, trying to lengthen the time she had to spend at the dinner table.

Two minutes and thirteen seconds into reheating her food, Olga called into the kitchen asking why Helga was taking so long reheating her food.

"I like my food hot." A burnt tongue and a few dead taste buds was a small price for a few more seconds away from Sean.

By the time the five minutes had elapsed, the cheese that Helga had sprinkled on her mashed potatoes had melted over the side of her plate and formed an orange-yellow puddle on the bottom of the microwave.

Back at the table, Drew was going on about some book that he had been reading. Helga guessed that Sean had tried to start conversation by asking what anybody was reading, and Drew had volunteered. Helga would have been focused more so on Drew speaking, seeing as she was looking for a few new books to read. All of the unfinished books that she had brought with her from Vermont had been long since read and reread. As much as she would have liked to have concentrated harder, Sean was persistently messing with her. Under the table he poked, prodded, pinched and kicked her in the most annoyingly flirtatious way: hard enough to distract her, and subtle enough to keep from hurting her.

Whether or not his intentions were pure (most likely not), they were nevertheless annoying. Helga bridled her temper, scooting her chair away from him little by little, instead of succumbing to her anger and slapping him in the face. Eventually, she reached the end of the table and could not move any further to her right. She turned to him, and gave him a look that said "Back off or Die", which he blatantly ignored. There wasn't much other reason for her to leave the table. She'd gone to the bathroom twice and swore she heard the phone ring three times already. She couldn't find any other excuse to leave the table. Again.

She tried every anger relieving technique imaginable: counting to her favorite number (seventeen), taking deep, slow breaths and thinking of her happy place (which at the time was anyplace where Sean was forbidden to enter). As each finger was angrily released from the blood deprived prison that was her fist, Helga tried her best to calm down for what felt like the 30th time. But the moment Sean placed his hand on her knee and refused to remove it, did she get truly upset.

Helga smiled as her hand crept up the side of her face and stopped at her ear. She made a slight face as she pinched the bottom of her earlobe, but still managed to keep a face straight enough to keep everyone at the table (Sean especially) thinking that nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

Slipping her hand back down her face, Helga let her hand hover over Sean's for a moment. The prospect that she'd be willingly engaging in physical contact with him was slightly disturbing, but the reward of such shadowed everything.

Turning to Sean and smiling as maniacally as he did, Helga kept her eyes locked on his face as she brought her hand down, meeting with Sean's a split-second before inflicting her "blow".

Had Helga any intention to give herself away, she would have laughed right then an there. Shed have fallen onto the ground, in a fit of unrestrained laughter and stayed there until she saw fit to stand up. Fortunately and unfortunately, Helga was to self composed and had to make due with reacting to Sean's leap backwards and plummet to the floor with a smile.

"Oh my goodness…Sean are you alright!" Olga said, clapping her hand over her mouth and leaning over the table to see Sean propping himself up off of the floor.

Helga noticed that Drew was giving her a look; half accusingly, half comedic. He obviously knew what she did but had no qualms about her getting back at Sean.

"I'm fine…" Sean said, almost angrily. He wasn't aware of what exactly happened, but just knowing that Helga would comply and put up a fight did upset him. He shook his hand loosely, the tiny red mark and pinkish outline barely visible from the other side of the table and stood to address the table. "I just remembered…I really have something I must take care of. Thank you for your hospitality. Goodnight all…"

Olga smiled at his thanks, and shot her sister a glance that read "Go. Now. Grounded." Helga didn't pick up on it right away, or at least pretended like she didn't. When Olga jerked her head to the side so hard that her hair probably got whiplash. Helga stood, placing her instrument of impalement, a tiny diamond studded earring into her pocket.

There was little chance that Sean would just walk out of a home he was wrongfully invited into like a normal person, mostly because Helga doubted he was a normal person at all. As soon as he was out of the door, he turned so that he was bordering the hallway and the doorway, thinking Helga wouldn't shut the door on his foot.

Helga rolled her eyes. _If I stabbed you in the hand with an earring, what makes you think I won't slam the door on your foot?_ she thought, avoiding his eyes.

"Well, I'll see you tomorrow Helga?"

"Yeah, just hope I don't wear hoops, or I might have to pin you to a wall." Helga remarked, crossing her arms.

Sean's face got immediately straight and almost intimidating. "Rest assured, Helga that I do not like being messed with. And when I am messed with I have ways of making people pay. Remem-"

Helga knew that she'd have to pay for slamming the door in his face the next day, but she wasn't entirely intimidated by Sean. Sure he knew her secret, but his pride was way too heavy to give up power by revealing her right away. He wanted to bask in this for a while, even if it meant taking some crap from her.

"Helga, now was that really necessary?" Olga asked, still seated at the table. Drew's arm was now draped over the back of her chair.

"Yes." Helga said as though being asked if she was allergic to strawberries. "He was getting dangerously close to my face."

"I meant the whole night. Don't you think you were a little rude?" Olga asked again.

"No. I think coming into a house where you are not wanted, bringing flowers for the hostess's sister that she doesn't even like, passing yourself off as a gentleman when you're not even human and acting like people owe you something is rude." Helga replied taking a seat on the couch with her back turned to Drew and Olga. She didn't expect Olga to understand all of that, but at least it was said.

"You have to admit…" Drew began. "He was sort of…artificial."

"See!" Helga screamed, almost jumping off of the couch. "My work here is done. I'm off to bed." Helga said, stretching momentarily and making her way down the hall. "Nice meeting you Drew. Goodnight Olga."

"Hey!"

"Huh? What?" Helga said snapping out of her daydream/flashback. She peered around the room and saw this it was empty, save for herself and Candy.

"Guess what? At this school there's this thing called a bell. It doesn't sound like a real bell but that's what the teachers call it. Anyway, when you hear this "bell" thing, you get to leave the class you're in and go to another one. Some people decide not to, but I thought we'd give it a whirl, just this once."

"Har har, how funny." Helga replied, gathering her books and following candy out of the door and down the crowded hallway.

In some ways, this was one of my favorite chapters. I love the beginning. The end…hate it hate it, hate it, hate it. I could do better. But my mind is in several different places. Here's to doing better next time. Oh and feel free to bring any bad or misused grammar to my attention. I'm a big fan of concrit.

Bittersweet Catastrophe is next for updates. This upcoming chapter was (and still is) really hard. You'll get why when you read it. It's my first real story from a first person perspective and it's not easy. But oh well.

I'd seriously give you guys a summary of the next chapter, but you guys are smart enough already, so I won't. Peace, Goodbye, So Long, Farewell Auf Wiedersehen, and all that Jazz.

-PointyObjects


	13. Escape

Can you believe it? I recently got inspired to write this story! After…what? A whole year? Shut up, I'm lazy and procrastinating. I'm sorry I said 'Shut up'; that's not nice. It's not you, it's me. Am I the only one who thinks that's the sorriest line in Breakup History (I capitalize it because it's a class I'm taking in college…it's great)? If it really is YOU and not ME, why aren't I breaking up with you? Maybe we should stay together long enough for me to realize what a complete fool you are, and then I'll break up with you. And when we do, I can say "It's not me, it's you", and you'll have to agree because you know it's true. Ahh, I'm a plethora of angry rants today, aren't I? Yes I am.

Warnings for this chapter: It'll be short. That's about all. And all you people saying "Olga's too perfect!!11" are goin' down. To Chinatown, baby. Kidding. Oh and sorry for that whole 'hiatus" thing. I was really getting into Hurricane and BSC, not to mention my one shot and my newest lovechild. You'll love them. No lie. They're like….the best things I've ever written. Better then BSC. Almost. I'm not entirely sure yet. Good things are yet to come.

Disclaimer: I don't own it. But you knew that already, didn't you?

* * *

Chapter 13: Escape

"_Cause I've been housing all this doubt  
And insecurity  
And I've been locked inside that house  
All the while, you hold the key  
And I've been dying to get out  
And that might be the death of me  
And even though there's no way of knowing  
Where to go, I promise I'm going because _

I've got to get out of here  
I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake  
I've got to get out of here  
And I'm begging you,

_I'm begging you, _

_I'm begging you to be my escape."_

_-"Be My Escape"_

_Reliant K_

"I'm leaving now, see you later…" Helga called, moving swiftly through the door. The fact that she was leaving earlier and earlier everyday had somehow gone unnoticed by Olga, much to her delight. Today's excuse: She had to finish an art project and the teacher only had a free classroom a half hour before school started. Today's _truth_: It was locker clean-out day for the C hallway in the upper half of the school. Despite the fact that Helga's locker was in the lower half of the B hallway, a small portion of her servitude to the spawn of Satan known as Sean was to clean out his locker while he skipped school to hang out at Slausen's. The illusion that she could leave without being questioned was suddenly burst as Olga emerged from her bedroom, holding a hand over the mouthpiece of her ivory colored cordless phone.

"Umm, Helga, you're leaving for school a little early today. Is everything alright?"

"Uh, well…yeah, I have this art thing to do and the teacher only-" Helga began, ready to go into her prepared speech before Olga interrupted.

"I just wanted to talk about something, I mean we haven't really talked since you've been here. But, I'll see you when you get home, I suppose." Olga said, her voice giving just an inkling of hope.

"Actually…I think I have to work tonight. I'll be home on time though." Helga said, trying to soften the verbal blow she'd just bestowed on her older sister.

"Okay then. See you tonight." Olga said, watching as Helga left the apartment. Turning back to her bedroom, she released her hand from the receiver and resumed speaking to the person on the other end. "Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"Well, what do you think I should do? She won't open up to me, she doesn't talk to me about anything…it's like she doesn't need me at all."

"Olga," Dorothy said, attempting to calm her niece. "You've got to understand something. As long as Helga can remember, you two have been very distant. She's only just now getting used to being around you. It'll be a long while before she can trust you. You forget," she began, smiling into the phone. "I lived with her too."

Taking a deep breath, Olga spoke again. "I know, I'll try talking to her tonight. Call you later, okay?"

"Alright, dear, I'll talk to you tonight."

* * *

'_Fantastic, now I get to have a touchy-feely conversation with Olga. What's up with that, she's been fine letting me do whatever I have to until now. Why does she suddenly want to have a talk?'_

Helga had left too early to catch the bus, and eager to get her latest task over with, she decided to walk to the school, despite the distance. Part of her wish that her lie to Olga was the truth and that she really did have to work that night. For the past month since Sean had issued his ridiculous list of demands, Helga had used four occasions to "go to work", where she was usually playing the part of Sean's most devoted and recent love interest. On each of these occasions, she'd caused him some kind of bodily injury, but none deterred him completely…yet. Tonight, she was to accompany Sean, Candy and Candy's current love interest and Spanish tutor, Michael, to a museum. For what reason they decided to go to a museum of all places, Helga did not know, but at least the chance of someone seeing them was less likely than an amusement park. Her ritual of "double-dating" with Candy was routine; she remembered the first time Candy revealed that Sean was to convoy on each of her dates. It was a few days after she'd unceremoniously stabbed him with her earring until her sister's dinner table.

* * *

"_So…what's the worst thing that's ever happened to you?" _

_Helga's eyes grew wide. The worst thing that's ever happened to me? Thinking fast, Helga turned around to find Candy, perfectly lip-glossed, manicured, and smelling faintly of vanilla, her face painted with slight nervousness. _

"_Ummm…when I was 12, my cat died." Once again, she'd found a way to tell the truth and lie at the same time. When living with her aunt, she and Kirsten had found an abandoned cat, whom they affectionately named Mr. Jeebs. Mr. Jeebs was sick when they found him, and died a few days later. Thus, in manner of speaking, Helga did have a cat that did die. There was, however, no way to make any truth out of the statement that this was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. _

"_Oh…geez, well…this may not be as bad as that, but this is definitely bad." Candy said, sitting across the round, library table from her. She'd been reading/hiding out from the rumors about she and Candy's less than desirable stepsibling. _

"_What exactly is wrong?" Helga said, somewhat bored. The entire day at school, she'd felt the need to melt into a puddle and slither back home. That and the fact that she felt her secret becoming less and less of a secret each day. _

"_Dragon Lady. She says I can't go out with Michael without a chaperone." _

"_Did you tell her I was going?" _

"_Yes, but…" _

"_But what? Geez, Candy it can' t be that bad…" _

"_She wants to pick the chaperone. She thinks I'm lying." _

_Helga couldn't help but roll her eyes. Candy was good company, she could hold her end of a conversation, and was smart. But sometimes, she got threateningly close to reminding Helga of a certain pig-tailed mistress of evil sunshine and rainbows from her past. She'd get upset over little things or get a look on her face, without knowing it, that made her think of Lila. _

"_I'm sure whoever you're step mom gets to follow you around on your date will be fine." _

_Helga said, with the intention of turning back to her book. _

"_She wants Sean to chaperone…" _

_Helga's face was a picture of shock and amusement. "Wow…that does suck. Well…have fun!" _

_She said, getting up to leave. Candy's next words were what stopped her. _

"_He won't do it…not without…" _

_Helga whipped around, her blonde hair following, landing on one shoulder. "No… Candy please…" _

"_Not without a date…of his own…" _

"_Candy, you listen to me. Don't you dare say it. Please, don't say it…" _

"_You." _

"_Crimeny!" Helga said, pacing back and forth in front of the table. _

_In the three minutes that followed, she'd thrown her books down, yelled, pleaded with Candy, denied the existence of Sean altogether and sneezed twice, but nothing changed, except the looks from the other occupants of the library. Candy winced when her voice got sharp and her whispers harsh. _

"_I'm sorry?" Candy said. She wasn't sure if she was necessarily to blame, but she felt as tough she should at least apologize. "You don't have to, if you don't want to…" _

_Helga stopped pacing long enough to look at her friend. Friend. "Ugh…" she groaned, sitting down. "It'd be so much easier to say no to you if you were a complete jerk." _

"_You'll do it?" Candy said. The color was returning to her once saddened face. _

"_Yes, fine, whatever." _

"Of course, I had to befriend the stepsister of the most sadistic person on the planet…" Helga said, under her breath as she entered the school. Walking upstairs, she located Sean's locker, entered the combination he'd given her and was promptly knocked over by the mountain of books, papers and garbage that flooded from the small, metal cage.

"This day just keeps getting better…" Helga said to no one in particular, as she started separating the contents of Sean's locker.

* * *

"She wants to have a talk? What about?"

"I have no idea! It came out of nowhere this morning." Helga replied, sinking further into the soft leather brown chair she'd spent every other lunch in since she'd returned to Hillwood. Across her sat the only person in the city she could tell anything to, that wouldn't want to "have a talk". Today she was clad in green; Helga wondered if she'd bought everything together and matched it perfectly. "I know what she wants to talk about." Helga said, crossing her arms and avoiding eye contact with Dr. Phelps.

"Your parents?" she asked, although already knowing what was on Helga's mind.

"Why would she want to talk about that?! It's so…stupid and…"

"And…" Dr. Phelps inquired. She knew what Helga had to do to move on from this. It upset her that it was something that Helga had to live with for so long so early in life.

"And I'm done! I'm done talking about them, and I'm thinking about them and I'm done _writing _to them!! Did you know that quack doctor back in Vermont made me write letters to them?! I had to throw them away after I did, but I mean, come on. How much sense does that make?? It's so stupid, it's easier to forget them altogether." Helga said, covering her face with her hands. True, she'd revealed her (former) darkest secret to this very person, and was, inevitably the first person she'd hugged voluntarily, but there were certain things that she could, or rather, did not reveal. To anyone. Maybe Aunt Dee. And maybe the stuffed bear she'd had since age four, but that was it.

"Helga…" Dr Phelps finally said, removing herself from her chair across the room. Helga had done an expert job covering her face, but her hands were only so big. The lines forming on her brow and the distinctive curl of her top lip to fit into the convex of her lower lip. As a child psychologist, the sight of a child in distress was an everyday occurrence. However, it never got any easier to see.

Dr. Phelps, for what would be the first time in her career, truly cried with a patient. Helga did not fall into her embrace, as was expected. She kept her face covered, muttered the hatred of her parents and the life they'd subjected her to, and apologized for the sobbing mess she turned into. In reply, Dr. Phelps did not reply; keeping silent, knowing that Helga did not need comfort in words, for she was a young adult gifted in making words have meaning. What she needed was comfort in the presence of someone who would not judge her for a life she had not asked for.

* * *

"Helga is that you?"

Helga did not respond, but simply removed her shoes and made her way to her room. Hopefully, Olga would notice the state of misery she was in and wouldn't ask about her day or the weather or anything. Unfortunately, she did not make it to her room, but was stopped as she was passing the kitchen. Olga sat in front of her laptop, in bifocals, probably working from home so as to get that "talk" in with Helga as soon ass she could. "I thought you had to work today…" Olga remarked, removing her glasses but staying seated.

"No, they didn't need me today." she replied, not missing a beat. The lethargic answer was meant to sway Olga's determination to have any sort of conversation with her, but much to the avail of Helga, that plan didn't pan out so well. She'd have to try a more direct approach.

"Helga, what I wanted to talk about was-"

"What are you doing?" Helga asked, becoming suddenly interested.

Olga was caught off guard for a moment, but soon regained her composure. "I'm writing up a lesson plan. Helga, I wanted to talk to you because, I don't feel like we've been able to…connect much since you moved in with me. And I think it's my fault, really."

"Come again?" Helga replied. This wasn't going at all like she imagined.

"I've been trying so hard to not put any pressure on you that I, well, I started to neglect my duties as your guardian. Aside from that, I haven't given you a chance to talk about how all of this is making you feel."

"How this is making me…feel?" Helga asked, wrinkling her forehead in confusion. "About what?"

"About…your situation." Olga said, hoping she'd chosen the corrected words.

Helga's brow suddenly smoothed over. _Now _the conversation was going like she imagined. She nearly kicked herself for not seeing it coming. "I'm not in a situation." Helga said, sternly.

"Helga, I un-"

"No…no. Let me stop you right there. Here's the deal. I don't want to talk about our parents. Ever. I don't want to talk about the past six years of my life. I don't want to talk about the past _sixteen _years of my life. I don't want to talk about Aunt Dee or Nicholas or Bryan, or Kirsten or James, or Dr. Phelps or anybody or anything. I want to go about my life as if nothing happened to make me any different from anyone ever. I do not want to talk, okay?" she said, preparing to go into her room and be left alone until the end of time.

"Helga? Helga, stop! Don't you get it? I lost my parents too." Olga said, now standing.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Helga turned to her now estranged sister with a cold look on her face. "Excuse me? You lost your parents too? Olga, I didn't _lose _my parents. Don't talk about it like it's a pair of shoes or something. Yeah, you might have lost your parents, but I didn't. They left me. Do you know what that means? That means when you get old and grey, you're gonna sit with your grandkids and tell them how your father loved you and told you that you were beautiful and took pictures of you before your prom. I didn't lose anything, because I never had any of that. So don't tell me you understand because you don't and you'll never be able to." Helga said. She'd restrained herself from bursting into tears or screaming at Olga the way she wanted to and impulsively felt the need to leave the tiny apartment.

"Helga, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said that. I want to understand you, and I want you to be able to trust me." she replied, pleading now.

Making her way to the door, Helga looked back at her sister regretfully. "I wish I could Olga."

"Why not?!!' Olga screamed before Helga could grab her coat and open the door. "Why can't you; I didn't do this to you! I'm trying!"

"Because, Olga." Helga began, "They'd never have done that to you."

* * *

"Your change is $4.75, ma'am, have a nice day."

As the redheaded woman left the store, her arms filled with geraniums, Arnold closed the register and prepared to lock up the store. It wasn't exactly closing time, but he threat of spring brought a decline in the customers visiting the flower shop, as people were arranging to create their own gardens. Before he could finish counting out the money in the register and lock the back and front doors, the bell above the front door chimed, signaling the arrival of another customer. Until Arnold saw who it was, he was prepared to tell them that the store was closed and the register was already shut down.

"Sorry, but you're a little bit late." he joked.

"Did we get our paychecks?" Helga asked, seriously, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah, they're in third drawer in Mrs. Vitello's office." he replied, noting the seriousness in his fellow employee's voice. Now was definitely not the time for him to make a joke as he planned. He heard her rummage through the drawer until she found her paycheck, and the sound of paper ripping as she opened it.

"Crimeny…" she said under her breath, glancing at the paycheck. 'Not enough for a bus ticket, and definitely not for a plane ticket.' she thought. 'and I'm certainly not taking a train.'

'Crimeny…?' Arnold thought. He'd meant to ask her about that when she said it a few times before, but he merely pushed it to the back of his mind.

Helga leaned back on Mrs. Vitello's old oak desk in defeat. In no time, Olga would have called the police and had every exit from Hillwood (and New York she suspected) blockaded. Not noticing the pair of green eyes watching her in the office, Helga continued to mumble to herself, until she launched herself from the desk, on her way to the front door. On an impulse, she turned to Arnold and spoke.

"Hey Arnold, umm…was there ever a big open field around the corner of Vine Street?"

"Uh, yeah. The guy who owned it eventually built town homes or something over there, but it used to be just a vacant lot." he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"And what about that cleaners a block over? What was there before that?"" Helga asked.

"That used to be a vacant lot too. Except a tree grew over there. It was supposed to be the oldest tree in the city, but it started to uproot the sidewalks and eventually the asphalt, so it was cut down. How did you know about-"

"How do I know about what?" Helga asked, as casually as she knew how. If she was going to metaphorically turn herself in, she reasoned, she was going to go out with a bang.

Arnold paused momentarily. "How do you know about all that stuff? That was years ago."

Helga did not reply, but merely leaned on the counter. "Where's the nearest bus stop?" She asked a few minutes later, after trying to figure out how much money may have been left in her emergency account.

"The city bus-" Arnold began, only to be interrupted again.

"I need a cross country bus…like one that leaves the state, preferably." she replied, grimly.

Arnold eyed her suspiciously, before replying. "Let me close up the shop, and I'll show you over there. Do you mind waiting a few minutes?"

"Take your time, Arnoldo, I've got all day…"

* * *

"Excuse me, when is the next bus to…Burlington, Vermont?" Helga asked the seemingly prim and proper man behind the bus station counter.

"I'm sorry Miss, all of our buses to Vermont, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts have been delayed." He said, avoiding Helga's stern gaze and focusing on his fingernails.

"How longs the delay?"

"Three hours for Vermont, ma'am." he replied, verbally dismissing her.

Helga whipped around and made her way back outside, where both fortunately and unfortunately, Arnold still sat waiting. Part of her hoped he'd get the point and go on home, but another part was glad that he hadn't. The area had changed significantly since her last visit to that part of Hillwood, and she wasn't entirely sure if she'd be able to make it home. If that was where she decided upon going.

"So?" Arnold asked, shifting his seating on the curb.

"There's a delay. At least three hours." She said, taking a seat by him in a obviously distressed manner.

"If you don't mind me asking…why exactly are you trying to leave?" Arnold asked, wary of the temper he'd seen her display on previous occasions.

Helga paused. "I came here looking for something and I didn't find it. So I figure, what's the point in staying?"

"You don't think your parents are going to be worried that you're just leaving? You know, kids can be sent to juvie for running away. It's considered a crime." Arnold said, somewhat sympathetically.

"My parents are dead." Helga said, leaning back on her elbows. She grimaced as the grains of dirt and sand ground themselves into her elbows, but decided against shifting her weight anymore. "And please, don't say 'I'm Sorry', it…it's very old."

"Trust me, if anyone is tired of hearing 'I'm Sorry', it's me. My parents died too. A long time ago."

Helga's eyed widened considerably. She tried running Arnold's words through her head several times, but it never seemed any clearer. She was unsure whether it was the fact that his parents had died, that he knew about it or that he seemed so unaffected by it that shocked her more.

"How do you know that?" she asked, frantically. Something had changed Arnold. She noticed this the day she met him, and she had to be certain that it was this and not something far more tragic. Although there wasn't anything more tragic for a child than losing their parents.

How d I know that?" he repeated, perplexed by her question.

"I…I mean, how…did it happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Helga was again taken aback by this remark. Where was this non-chalantness coming from? Was it possible that in her five-year absence, the Arnold that she had come to know (and offhandedly grown infatuated with) died and was replaced by an Arnold that was her emotional duplicate sans the need for anger management counseling?

"What is wrong with you?" Helga asked, abruptly standing up. "I mean, seriously, what is your deal? It's not like your parents just…up and left; at least they left you with capable people who love you, and care about you and don't care if you screw up or disappoint people. So quit being all sad and sarcastic and…look on the bright side!! Jeez…" she finished, resuming her seat, but avoiding Arnold's stare.

"Did you just ask me to look on the bright side?" he asked. He was unsure whether to laugh or…well, the only option was really to laugh. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yeah, which is exactly why you _need _to look on the bright side; you're depressing the hell outta me." Helga said, smiling a little herself.

"No, I don't think you get it. Telling me to look on the bright side, is like telling Shaq to be tall." Arnold replied.

"Look Arnoldo, I know all about you." she said, giving special emphasis to her words. _What are you doing, you moron? _Her brain warned her. _Are you trying to get found out? _"I know all about how you saved your neighborhood, and how you got back your vacant lot, and how you saved your tree. You're a regular saint." _Yeah, you just dug your own grave. Why didn't you just remind him of the umbrella incident in preschool and be done with it?!!_

For the umpteenth time that night, Arnold furrowed his brow in suspicion at the person sitting next to him. From the moment he'd met her there was something oddly familiar about her, but her constant (and often inexplicable) changes in demeanor usually left him scratching his head in confusion. No doubt she was elusive; she could avoid answering a question by either asking one herself or asking one of her own that left people as confused as they were before, if not more so.

When she locked eyes with him after a few minutes, smiling that smile that told you everything you needed to know and at the same time nothing at all, they both knew: She'd been found out.

"You're name isn't Annabelle, is it?" Arnold asked, silently.

"And you didn't save that tree by yourself, did you?"

Arnold stumbled over his words for a few seconds, attempting to get his thoughts straight. Of course the idea ran through his mind once or twice, but the possibility that Annabelle really was Helga, and that he'd be faced with the option of having her confirm it was something he'd neglected. "Why'd you do it?"

"I told you before, Bob was bugging me and-"

"You know what I mean." he said, his voice firmer now, but tinged with consideration.

Helga sighed and bit the inside of her cheek before answering. "Because…I didn't want anyone to know who I was. I wanted to be able to actually start over without anyone having any preconceived notions about me. I guess…I guess I didn't want anyone I knew to ask me about why I left." she said, growing quieter as she spoke.

"Preconceived notions? You made up an…an alias so that people wouldn't ask why you moved away? That's crazy, Helga, even for you."

Helga tried to calm herself down. Her nerves were wracked; she was tired of talking about her past. Her motivation for coming to Hillwood were to leave her past alone and move on. For her, it proved harder than imagined, seeing as she walked right into her past with every intention of forgetting about it. "It's bigger than that, Arnold. Much bigger."

"I still can't believe you're back…"

"Well, don't get happy, 'cause I'm out of here as soon as that bus comes." she said, resuming her former lackadaisical attitude.

"Why are you so set on leaving? Hillwood isn't that bad."

"I suppose not. I'm just…sick of this place. I'm sick of everything it reminds me of."

After a long pause, Arnold spoke again. He decided to mince his words, lest he lose what trust Helga obviously had in him so far. Helga. The name hadn't passed through his mouth in what seemed like forever, except in passing. And yet, there she was. Helga. The Helga. Sitting next to him on a curb, in front of a bus station. Attempting to run away.

"Something else happened. Something that would make you want to run away from here. Your parents didn't just move away and die."

"Right again, Arnoldo. Nothing gets passed you…" she chided, smiling again, only this time, in a sad way. "Do you want the long version or the much less painful short version?" she asked. She almost laughed at herself for asking (again). Everyone always wanted the long version, but still gave her a choice.

"Whichever one you like."

* * *

"Helga…I don't know what to say…"

"It's okay, I mean, how could anyone have known? It's not like I tried to contact anyone once I got to Vermont. Well, save for Phoebe. I called her once, right after I moved in with my Aunt Dee." Helga stated. Since revealing her secret to Arnold (although there was little left to reveal after her earlier divulgence), she'd given up any hope of making it back to Vermont. Arnold was still having a little trouble convincing her to return to Olga's apartment, though. They'd settled on walking _towards_ Olga's apartment. Their pit stop came happened to be the last place he (or virtually anyone else) had seen her since her move to Vermont. They sat quietly in the eh dim light of a nearby streetlight on the rusted swings of PS 118, both focusing their gazes on the asphalt that made up their elementary school playground. "I wish I could find her here…that was another reason I came back. I wanted to explain myself."

"To do that," Arnold said, trying to reassure her somehow. "you'd have to look someplace else. After you left, Phoebe was really…I don't know. She didn't really talk to anyone. And then one day, like you, she left. Her dad got some job back in Kentucky and she left. We kept in touch for a while, but, I guess she just wanted to forget everything."

"Does anyone know _where _in Kentucky exactly?" Helga asked in desperation.

"I have an old letter she sent me a while back. I'll give it to you at school tomorrow. You _are _going to school tomorrow, right?" Arnold asked, half jokingly, half dead serious. He didn't want to imagine Helga making another break and disappearing for years and years.

"I guess I have to now; you hold the key to my best friend. So are we heading home or what?" she asked, standing up from her swing, causing the rusted chains to squeak.

Duplicating her, Arnold stood up and walked towards the sidewalk. "So, what have you been doing these many, many years away from good ol' Hillwood?" Arnold asked, nudging Helga on her right arm with his left.

Helga smiled before responding. "Well…I was living with my aunt. Her name's Dorothy, but everyone calls her Dee. And my two cousins Nick, who's 14, and Bryan, who's 12. I really liked living with them. I went to a private school for girls, and I played field hockey until I moved here. My boyfriend-"

"Boyfriend, huh? So you were two-timing Sean all this time? Bad Helga…" Arnold joked.

"As ridiculous as what you just said sounds, it's good to hear someone say my real name. And by the time I was being _blackmailed _by Sean, James had confirmed that he was in love with my best friend and that we should see other people." Helga remarked, smiling the whole time.

"Ouch."

"It wasn't so bad, I mean, he could have gone with 'It's not you, it's me'. At least with his line, we were both already seeing other people." Helga said, turning the corner; showing Arnold the way to Olga's apartment. "Well, you can't really call blackmail 'seeing' someone. Indentured servitude is more like it."

"You always had a knack for words. Still writing?" Arnold asked.

"Of course, I had to have something to keep me sane. What about you? Still…helping everyone you come across?"

"I do what I can." Arnold replied, facing forward. "This your sister's apartment?" Arnold asked, gesturing up to the brick building, they were now standing in front of.

"Yup." Helga replied, still staring up at the window that she knew was in the kitchen of her sister's apartment. _Time to face the music, Pataki._ "I think I can take it from here. I don't see any police cars, so I figure she hasn't called in the National Guard yet." Helga stated, turning to face Arnold. She hadn't noticed how much taller than her he was until now, eliminating the option of calling him by any name she had once used to insult him.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow." He said, shifting his body to turn away.

"Yeah, I'll be there. And don't forget the letter, okay?" Helga reminded him, before he could walk back down the street from whence they came.

"I won't."

Helga stood for a few seconds, her stare going from the ground to the building to her hands and finally to the retreating back of Arnold. He was a few feet away when she found her voice. "Hey Arnold!" she called, smiling to herself. She hadn't really said his name since she moved back. Not like that, at least. Not how she wanted to.

"Yeah, Helga?" he said. _Oy Vey, I didn't realize he was so close. Maybe I should have waited until he was farther away _Helga thought, as she noticed Arnold making his way back towards where she was standing.

"I…I just…Thanks. For walking me home. And for…" she trailed off, redirecting her stare back to the ground.

"For…?" he urged, helping her along.

"For calling me Helga. I guess I'm going to have to get used to that, huh?" she asked, nearly kicking herself for being so absent-minded. She nearly kicked herself again for being to absent-minded to not notice Arnold moving closer and closer to her face. Her eyes widened, but she couldn't get her brain to do anything else. Before she could do anything else except confuse herself with her inability to move, there was a slight pressure on her face, and in an instant it was gone.

"And thank you for calling me Arnold. I guess I'll have to get used to that too…" Arnold replied, backing away from Helga's now reddened face. "See you around."

Helga remained wide-eyed, and turned to the apartment, holding her face. _Who would have guessed, _she thought, _that I'd be back in Hillwood, living with Olga, and that Arnold would kiss me!!! Okay, so, granted it was a cheek-kiss, but what the hay… _Helga thought. Her hand was on the doorknob to the lobby before it was opened towards her, nearly knocking her over.

"Oh sorry, I didn't-Helga?! Oh geez, it's you!!" Helga heard before being swallowed by an enormous hug. Who the person hugging her was and why was a mystery to her.

"Um, I think you may have the wrong person." Helga said, attempting to back away from her own serial hugger.

"Helga it's me, Candy! I'm so glad you came back; Olga and I were so worried about you." Candy said, releasing Helga from her death grip.

"It's cool, Arnold walked me home- wait, you and Olga were worried? How do you know my sister?" Helga asked, stepping back. The way she said her name, Candy sounded too familiar with Olga to have just met her.

"How could I _not_ remember Olga, she…wait, you don't know who I am? You don't recognize me?" Candy asked, stunned.

"You're Candy, right? Right?" Helga asked, growing frantic. _I smell another revelation…_

"Wow, I thought for sure you'd recognize me. But then again, I didn't recognize you until…your sister told me. Crazy how things work out like that, huh?" Candy said, losing track of her central thought.

"Candy, hold up a second, who are you? Where am I supposed to recognize you from?"

"I never did tell you may last name, did I?" Candy asked, placing her hands behind her back and rocking on her heels. Helga's face softened, coming to the sudden realization, that she never did find that out about Candy. She was always just…Candy. Maybe her last name would somehow give her a clue as to how they were supposed to know one another.

"What is your last name?" Helga asked wearily. Something told her she wasn't going to be very happy with the answer.

"My last name is Sawyer. My first name is really Lillian, but no one calls me that. Not even my dad. He's the one who came up with Candy; he said it was because I was so sweet as a baby. I kind of took it with me to high school. It kind of fits doesn't it?"

_Dear Brain,_

_So far today, we have revealed our identity to Arnold, thus thwarting any future attempts at Sean's blackmail scheme, ran away from home for a grand total of three hours, revisited PS 118 and gotten a (cheek) kiss from Arnold. So, there shouldn't be too much shock behind the whole Lila thing. Just act cool and pretend you knew it the whole time. There'll be plenty of time to freak out about this later._

_Love,_

_Your Conscience_

"You're who?! You're joking right?" Helga asked, panicking. "You can't be Li-la...she's...and she was...and you're so..." Helga began, instinctively seperating "Lila" into two syllables, though without the anger and jealously that used to come with teh name, it just sounded like she was brain dead. wHich she practically was at this point.

"I guess we both changed a lot, huh? Well, no time to stand out in the street. I'll talk to you at school tomorrow, okay? And don't worry, I won't tell a soul. Swear." Candy said, resuming her perky and practically skipping off down the sidewalk.

'I can not believe my luck' Helga repeated as she ascended the steps to Olga's apartment. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see the light spilling out into the hallway from deep inside the house. Opening he door just wide enough for her to slip through, and closed it silently behind her. The light was coming from Olga's bedroom. It was dim; she knew Olga only had one lamp in her room, as she had given the other to Helga for her new room. Helga took a deep breath, and opened up the door to her sister's bedroom.

"Olga?" Helga whispered. She didn't want to startle Olga, but from the way she looked when she opened the door, it wasn't hard to startle her. She was hunched over on the side of the bed, obviously upset. "Olga, I…I'm sorry I ran off. And I'm sorry I said those things to you. You've been nothing but great to me, and I haven't appreciated it. If you don't mind, I'd like to stay with you. Please?" Helga asked from the doorframe.

Olga turned slowly. Her eyes were clouded and she looked disheveled. Helga found it suddenly difficult to read her gaze, something she was usually better at. As Olga descended on her, she grew somewhat fearful, afraid that Olga would be fed up and send her away to Vermont or California or Guam.

"Helga, I'm just…" she began, her words wracked with sobs. Helga stepped closer, not sure how to go about comforting her sister. "…I'm sorry. We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to."

"No, I mean…if I'm going to talk to anybody, it should be you. You're my sister, after all." Helga finished, smiling.

* * *

"I thought…I thought maybe I was intruding. Like you didn't really want me to be here, or something." Helga said, over a cup of hot chocolate. She and Olga were seated comfortably on the ivory couch, and had been for quite some time. Olga divulged that she avoided the subject of their parents to shield Helga from any negative memories that she may have had, but soon realized that instead of trying to block out whatever bad Helga may have experienced, it was more rewarding to work on building good memories. Helga , on the other hand, was so used to being pushed away, she had to learn to accept when people were making sincere attempts to bring her in instead of resisting them.

"Helga, you're my sister. You'd never be an intrusion."

"But what if Drew proposed, and you guys got married? I'd just be this...person in your house, imposing on your life." Helga asked.

"Actually Drew did propose. Two days ago." Olga said, staring into her half full mug.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Helga asked, sitting up straight. Seemed there was a lot that she wasn't being told. Then again, she'd done her fair share of with-holding information, so she let it pass.

"Because I turned him down. We haven't known each other long enough, and I don't think he was ready. We had to get our priorities straight first. And you, Helga, are m number one priority, okay?"

Helga had to fight back tears after that one. For years she'd painted Olga as a distant, overly-caffeinated freak that happened to crawl from the same gene pool as her. For the first time, she was able to see her sister for the caring individual she was. Sure she had her flaws; her voice got too high when she was excited and she put too much sugar in the batter when she made cookies, but Helga wouldn't have been happier if it were anybody else's care she was under. Resting her mug down on the coffee table adjacent to her, Helga leaned forward on her knees and embraced her sister from across the couch. She'd been impromptu hugged several times that day, and decided it was time to return the favor to the person who deserved it most.

* * *

Understand that it is like…3:43 AM Eastern Standard Time, and I have to be up by 5. That's how much I love you guys. That and I was super inspired today, so I had to get it all out before I…forgot it. And I have a policy about my endings. The day (usually night) I write them, is the night the story gets posted. Because if I don't, I end up changing it, which leads to the whole chapter getting changed, which leads to me rewriting the whole story. No good can come of that.

Inspiration today is thanks to…everyone on my Favorite Author list, but especially Jae B and BaldOneMpls. I didn't plagiarize, because plagiarism is bad. But when I need to write, I like reading stories out loud, and the dialogue and plot progression in the stories I've read from them are fantastic. Honestly, these guys are amazing, and I send many thanks from Maryland.

BTW, the scene where Helga asks Arnold which version he'd like to hear…allusion to Chapter 7. Yeah, baby. I self alluded myself. Or something. Sorry about all the stuff going on this chapter. But there was no place to break it up. The Lila twist was mmy favorite; I've been dreaming that up since forver! And I lied, this chapter is mad long, but the next one (THE LAST!) will be so short. You'll hate me. And love me. At the same time. It's a complex emotion, so prepare yourselves. Okay, I'm off. Even if you don't review, I hope you enjoyed it.


	14. Faith

The Last Chapter! Can you believe it? My second multi-chapter fic completed. I'm ready for this to end, though. Only because I like seeing my growth through it. Aww, I'm a big girl, now. Okay, on with the story!

**Chapter 14: Faith**

* * *

"Olga! Aside from breaching child labor laws, I think I'm suffering from permanent brain damage…" 

"Too bad, that's what you get for sneaking out…" Olga replied in a sing-song voice.

Helga huffed in the doorway of her bedroom and dramatically turned back to her work. She was still under probation for sneaking out (unwillingly, she added, whenever given the opportunity to defend herself) while under Sean's ridiculous contract. Olga had already told her that she could paint her room prior to the "Sean Incident", but the privilege of having a room that wasn't blinding white was that she had to use her own money to buy the paint and supplies and she had to do the labor. All of the labor. Moving the furniture in the room, taping the walls, windows and doors, priming, and painting. Essentially, she had to do everything.

Staring at her work (or lack thereof), she grew frustrated at its incompleteness. She decided against using a primer for the paint, and attacked the pure white walls with the lavender paint. This proved to be a setback, as primer was meant to keep the old color (in her case, white) from showing through the new color, purple. As soon as the wall dried, the fact that the wall was, at one time, white, was very apparent. As a result, she had to paint each wall at least twice.

There was no question in her mind why she disliked painting so much. In the past three hours, she'd gotten Painter's Tape stuck in her hair, ruined two pairs of perfectly good jeans, broke three nails, stubbed her right pinky toe, dropped a nightstand on her big left toe, and painted her two front teeth purple. She needed a break. And maybe a respirator.

Olga entered then, as she brooded on the floor. She'd done so since she started earlier that day, making sure that she wasn't going anywhere. Olga carried on a tray, Helga's lunch, consisting of pasta garlic bread and water. She felt as though she was in a high class prison.

"Thanks Olga." she said, before noticing her sister's attire. She was wearing a red, black and white empire waist top and black dress pants with low, but formal heeled sandals. "What are you all dressed up for?" Helga asked, immediately tearing into her garlic bread.

"I have to be somewhere. I'll be back in fifteen minutes. You are not to leave this room, understand?" she asked, looking stern. Since Helga's reveal, she'd just about mastered that look.

"Are you going on date? Who with? Why can't I leave?" Helga asked, her face just between a pout and a scowl.

"No, no one and because I said so. You can leave when you finish painting your room and putting all the furniture back." Olga responded. Helga looked at the furniture crowded to the middle of the room and covered in a clear plastic tarp, to avoid paint stains.

"Fine…" Helga sighed, picking up the paint roller again. Her arms were tired from reaching the tops of the walls, her legs from standing and her eyes from shifting from white to purple over and over. She said a small goodbye to Olga, and although still working, let her mind wander elsewhere to maintain her sanity. She contemplated the past few weeks since she'd told her friends, as she was cautious to call them, who she was.

The transformation was both horribly sudden and painfully gradual. The next day at school, she was undoubtedly Helga Pataki as opposed to Annabelle. That was the sudden part. She advised her teachers to call her Helga, and happily, all of them complied. They were still baffled, at one moment she wanted her name changed and then she wanted it back. The gradual part came in having to _be _Helga Pataki. A part of her thought that she had to revert back to her old self to let everyone know that she really was Helga. That thought left her mind eventually, and she tried as best not to act like nine year-old Helga and mature. She decided to inquire of the only person in her life who made sense more than 73 percent of the time.

* * *

"So you told?" Of course she told. It was only a matter of time before she told. The shock (that Dr. Phelps was attempting to conceal) came from the fact that she first told Arnold. Of all the people to reveal herself to, she chose the person she was initially aimed to avoid.

"Well, not so much…I did tell, but…yes." Helga admitted. Another lunch period, same leather chair.

"And are you feeling relieved that you got it off your chest, or nervous?"

"That's it!" Helga exclaimed, abandoning her lazy position in the chair, to sit up straight and lean forward, "I don't know how I feel! I'm glad I don't have to be Annabelle anymore, I mean, you can't imagine the crazy names people come up with. Besides it sounds like the name of a dairy-spotted cow, or something. And I guess…I still don't want anyone to know I'm…me."

"Why not?" She spoke as though she already knew the answer. She more than likely did.

"Because, I didn't like me then. I didn't like who I was." she answered quietly. Her own thoughts were beginning to confuse her. It was like having the pieces to a puzzle, but not knowing what they were supposed to become once put together.

"There was nothing about yourself that you liked?"

"No. I was a spoiled brat with no reason to treat people as I did. I don't want to be like that anymore. I think that if I had to choose between Annabelle and Helga, I'd have to go with Annabelle."

"Why is that?"

"Isn't it obvious? I was miserable back then because I made myself miserable! And I didn't do anything about it! And now, I'm miserable because somebody made me miserable, and now that I've done something about it, I'm still miserable. I can' win, Dr. Bliss!"

"Phelps. And you have won. Well, maybe not won; not yet. But you've made a conquest."

anyone's 

"Helga, you done yet?" Olga called from the front room. She tossed her bag on the ivory couch and made her way down the hallway. Opening the door, she found Helga slumped over on her still tarp-covered bed. She was currently rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and to be as polite as one could be, given the situation, looked a bit like a mess. Olga cocked her head to one side and leaned on the doorframe. "Umm, Helga, maybe you should…get dressed." she suggested.

"Why?" Helga asked, standing and stretching. She didn't see anything wrong with her attire; she was, after all, just painting a room. Nobody important was there to see her.

"Yeah, but I have a…dinner to go to with some colleagues of mine, and I thought you could come along. Or something." Olga hadn't considered the option of lying to Helga…well, technically, she had, but not this soon. Not _now_. Olga was never very used to lying and when she did, it as over small things. Things too small for people to even notice she was lying. But now, she was up against Helga, her younger, yet somewhat more intuitive sister, who could probably smell a lie a mile away. Something told Olga this wasn't going to be very easy.

"Oh. Okay. Gimme ten minutes." Helga replied, rummaging through the closest drawer.

As promised, within ten minutes, Helga emerged from her room, clad in a ruby colored top, that would have bare more cleavage than Olga preferred (even if she weren't heading off to a dinner with colleagues) had she not worn a white tank top underneath. Paired with dark-washed blue jeans, Helga looked perfect for where she was going, especially since she didn't know where she was _really _going. She'd pulled her hair up into a ponytail, and with a few hairpins, kept it from looking too messy.

"Is this okay? Is it too casual?" Helga asked, obviously talking about the jeans. She had enough sense to know that jeans could go either way: casual or classy. She was pulling for the latter.

"It's perfect, let's go." Olga replied, dashing out the door with Helga in tow.

In the car, Helga resumed asking questions. "So where are we having dinner?"

Olga was more prepared this time; she anticipated Helga's erratic question-asking, and threw what ever answer together faster. "Chez Paris."

"But I thought that was on Broad Street." Helga said, a look of confusion painted on her face.

"Oh. I meant Chez Pierre. I always get those two restaurants confused…" Olga said, turning the corner.

"Did that place move or something? I always thought that was off of Main or was it Jefferson…" Helga asked, tapping her chin with her middle and index finger.

"Oh, I didn't tell you? No, they did move. Yes, opened up another one with better…lighting. Just down from Vine Street. Yes, the lighting is much better since they moved." 'Better lighting?!' Olga scolded herself. 'I'm an awful liar…' she lamented as she drove. Thankfully, Helga just shrugged her shoulders and let Olga continue driving. A moment or so later, Olga pulled over, a block over from Vine Street, and turned the car off.

"Why'd we stop?" Helga asked Olga.

"I need to get myself something out of the convenience store. Do you think you could hop over to that ATM and just check the balance? Here's the PIN." Olga said, handing her sister a piece of folded paper. "I'll be right out." Olga said, leaving the car before Helga could protest. Helga climbed out of the car after Olga disappeared inside the convenience store across the street. She made her way to the ATM and stood behind two men, both dressed in black, and identical aside from the fact that one was about a head taller than the other. She waited until they were finished and far away enough before punching numbers.

Before she could enter Olga's PIN, she was grabbed from behind with a hand over her mouth and taken into an alley. It was obviously the two guys that were in line ahead of her; she noticed that they looked at her too closely before walking away. She attempted to fight off the smaller one, but he'd succeeded in holding her arms down, while to other slipped something around her head. In an instant she was blindfolded, and whipping her head from one side to the other. Before she was blindfolded, she found it interesting that neither of her captors were standing very close to her. They didn't hurt her in anyway, as she expected in such an encounter. She saw a bright glimmer of hope before she was hoisted over the shoulder of the taller man and led out of the alley.

Immediately she began pounding on the back of her subjugator, screaming threats and abuses, and attempting to kick him as far south on his torso as she could. She called Olga's name though not sure if she was within earshot anymore. Within a few minutes, the kicking had died down, but Helga's voice had not.

"You better let me down, I mean it." She threatened, pounding on his back, not as rhythmically as before, but with just as much force.

"Dude are we there yet?" The man holding Helga asked his companion.

"Almost." he answered. Helga felt the volume of heir voices rise, and was suddenly aware that they were inside of a building. Before she could question them, she felt herself, still in her captor's grasp, rise as well. They were going upstairs. But _where _upstairs?

"Can you at least tell me where you're taking me? I'll be quiet if you tell me where you're taking me." Helga offered. Maybe if she could hear these guys talk a little more, she could better envision the faces she'd give to the police. 'Appeal to their niceness,' she thought to herself.

"I forgot how talkative she was…" said the man carrying Helga up the stairs. Helga's head snapped up; she couldn't see either way, but the words of her stalkers/captors didn't escape her ears.

"Tell me about it." the other replied, now walking ahead of them.

"Hey, what's that supposed to me-" Helga began, before feeling the chill of the night back on her shoulders, and the exposed part of her arched back. "Why are we back outside? Where are we?" Helga wailed, beginning to wrestle again. Before she sound get a good three or four punches in, Helga was set down, on her feet, though still blindfolded. "Ha ha, very funny, Mr. Kidnapper…take me to some secluded spot and watch me try to run away, only to fall off the side of a building. Did you think I didn't know we were going up stairs?" Helga asked, bringing her hands to the back of her head and trying to undo the knot that kept her blind. "I mean, how stupid do you think…" she started, finally getting the last part of the know undone. She let the black cloth slip from off of her face as she finished her statement. "…I am…?"

Helga was speechless to find a rooftop, not full of hooligans and mobsters waiting to sell her on the black market (as she expected) but a familiar rooftop with all too familiar faces. She froze at the sight of the people she'd left behind; people that she had found since then all in the same place. The sight itself nearly made her tear up, before she noticed her Aunt Dee and two young cousins; looking taller and older than she last remembered them, standing near the edge of the balcony. Before she could ask why all the important people in her life were standing on a balcony in New York, she was concerned where she was exactly. She looked over her shoulder slowly, and down the side of the building. Across the deserted street she could see the streetlights blinking out in front of Green Meats and Ms. Vitello's Flower Shop. Realization hit Helga like a ton of bricks. Arnold's rooftop? She'd been kidnapped and taken to Arnold's rooftop?

"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait one minute!" Helga yelled, throwing her hands up, somewhat defensively. "What is going on?" she asked.

"Helga," Lila said, stepping out from…somewhere Helga obviously wasn't looking, looking all but amazing in a green and white (her signature color) spring dress that ended just above her knees. "We know when you left…when you left it was kind of sudden. And when you came back, well, none of us were even aware of it." she admitted, earning a few chuckles from the multiple guests, some Helga knew right away, some she had to think harder about. "So we wanted to throw you a little party, or something. And it's old school Hillwood only. Promise." she beamed, holding her arms out towards Helga.

Against her better judgment, Helga hugged her back, and by the time she pulled away, she could not deny that she'd shed a tear. A few tears. She was crying, to be perfectly frank.

"Oh, Helga, don't cry," Lila cooed, smiling wider.

"it's not that…" Helga said, wiping her face. "It's just that…"

"Just that what?" Lila asked. She was suddenly afraid that the whole party idea offended and upset Helga. She had gone through great lengths to keep her secret, and here they were throwing a party to celebrate it's unveiling.

"It's that…" she paused, the looked up at her party attendees with a irate stare. "…you guys hired two criminals to kidnap me just to get me here?!" Helga shouted, laughingly.

"Well, not exactly _criminals_…" Lila said, looking towards the two men still standing behind Helga.

"What you mean 'not exactly criminals', Lye? I've never committed a criminal act in my life…" said the shorter man.

"You borrowed dad's truck without asking and drove it without a license…sounds like a criminal act to me…" Lila sang, crossing her arms.

'Dad?' Helga thought. "Sean?!" she realized. "You got your brother and some…other guy to kidnap me?!" she asked, frantically.

"For the last time, Helga, step brother. No relation. And that's not just some guy…"

"Oh let me guess," Helga said, before the taller of the two could unmask himself. "This is the part where Ashton Kutcher comes out, tells me I've been "punk'd", right. Ha ha, Lila, very funny…" she said.

"Well, I'm not quite Ashton, but I did get you that year on April Fools…" said the taller man, reaching to remove his ski mask. How could she had not recognized that voice. She waited until the raven hair spilled out from under the black hood before smiling. "Hi Helga."

"Hi James." Helga said, obviously holding no grudge towards her "ex". She was never fond of the word, but until she could establish real friendship with him, there was little else to call him. Turning back to Lila, she wore a somewhat panicked face. "You go your psycho stepbrother and my…ex, just to get me to this party?" she asked through closed teeth.

"Would you have come either way?" Lila asked, skeptically.

Helga smiled. It was nice to be back with people who knew her. Who really _knew _her. "No." She laughed. "I'd have kicked and screamed the whole way."

"You did kick and scream the whole way." James said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Alright, alright," Lila said, directing the attention of the crowd assembled on Arnold's rooftop. "Enough sentimental rap, time to party!" she shouted before disappearing into the crowd.

* * *

Helga was suddenly surrounded by old friends, most she could name just from seeing them: The ever-tall Stinky, who no longer went by the childhood name, except by close friends (Which she was now, apparently), the sandy blonde Nadine, and the somewhat less gigantic Sheena, both members of the community's Wildlife Preservation and Vegan's Society of Hillwood, among the other colorful characters from her past life. She eagerly embraced most, and after a few encounters, was able to condense her story to a few seconds. She didn't want to occupy the night talking about herself, although the party was, essentially, in her honor. She interrupted Harold apologetically, claiming to need a drink and a breath of fresh air, despite being outside. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the refreshment table, and began pouring a drink before another figure approached her. 

"How're you doing these days, Helga?"

Helga smiled and gave Gerald a one-armed hug with the hand that wasn't holding her drink. "I'm fine, Gerald…"she replied. She and Gerald never quite saw eye to eye in the past, mostly because they were both to some extent impulsive and stubborn. He'd formed an opinion about Helga, and as convincing the evidence against him may have been, his opinion remained. After she left, however, and once she returned, he evaluated his stance on her. "Man, everyone is so…different now." she said.

"We could say the same for you." Gerald said, nudging her on the arm. Noticing the slightly perplexed look on her face, he continued. "Old Helga would have came back to Hillwood with a vengeance. Claiming her neighborhood, bossing people around, stuff like that. The last thing we expected was for you to hide yourself. You've changed, Helga Pataki." he said, finally.

"Thanks, Gerald." Helga said. She scanned the roof again, and noticed that Arnold was absent. He'd made a few brief appearances, but none of them lasting long enough to say anything to her. She had to admit, se was a little disappointed. She was finally in (or on this case "on") his house _with _his permission, and she had yet to speak to him. "Do you know where Arnold is? I haven't had the opportunity to thank him yet." she lied.

"Yeah, he told me to let you know he wanted to show you something. He's in his room, right under us. You know how to get there?" Gerald asked.

Helga smiled. "Better than you know." she said, before thanking him and making her way to the skylight of Arnold's bedroom. Opening the latch, she climbed down backwards and turned once she got to the bed. She turned to survey the room that she'd only been inside of a few times. In the past, she was never inside long enough to admire anything. She was now able to take notice of the little things in his room, the pictures of his parents near his bed, his collection of books ranging from informative to mystery to science fiction, the plethora of CD's and vinyl records he'd obviously acquired from his grandparents over the years. In an instant, the door to his room opened. I walked Arnold, holding she could not see clearly, though she could tell it was something square plastic and wide. She cleared her throat the get his attention. He whirled towards her, and she hoisted herself up off of the bed.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Life of the Party. To what do I owe the honor?" he asked, leaning back on his computer desk.

"Gerald said you had something to show me. And I haven't really been able to say thank you yet. So, thank you. For all of this. For everything." she said, suddenly feeling meek and shy. "What is it you had to show me?"

Arnold smiled, and waved her over to the desk. "I've had this for a while. A long while. Come see." he beckoned, as she walked towards him.

Helga wasn't sure what she was looking at until she notice the intricate lines that seemed to be etched in the dirt. She made the motion to pick up the object, before remembering that it was probably fragile, and settled for running her hands over the top and sides. "You don't think playing with ant farms is just a little it juvenile?" she asked, laughing.

"Maybe, but this ant farm is special. It's an experiment I've been working on for quite some time." he said, noticing she was hesitant to pick up the thin, plastic tank. "Look closely."

Helga rolled her eyes jokingly, and picked up the ant farm, pulling it close to her face to look inside. The lighting of his room was bright, so she was certain that she wasn't seeing things that weren't there. Literally.

"There aren't any _ants _in your _ant _farm." she said. When he nodded knowingly, she continued. "Well, either you're an ant alien disguising yourself as a human or your little experiment went down the toilet a long time ago." she smiled.

"Look closely." he said again, putting special emphasis on the words.

Helga brought the ant farm close to her face again, look for whatever compelled Arnold to show it to her. "Oh, I see now. You've got an ant in here." she said, backing off. "One ant, Arnold?"

"Two actually." he responded.

"Two ants? Oh, wait, there's the other one. Wow, I don't think I've ever seen and ant farm with so few…ants."

"Well, you see, this ant farm is…special. These are test ants. I've been watching them for a few years now." he said.

"Years? Ants live that long?" Helga asked, her attention sparked.

"Ants live as long as they are able to cooperate and live. See this ant? Nearly killed herself from not cooperating."

"Herself? You know if they're male or female? How?" Helga asked.

"Well, I sort of assume. By how they act. That one's female," he said, pointing to a brownish-red ant and then to a black ant. "And this one is male."

"They're not even the same kind of ant. How do they cohabitate?" she asked, suddenly no longer bothered by the fact that her first invitation into Arnold's room was to look at insects.

"As I remember, you weren't this interested in a couple of ants last time we spoke about them." he said, smugly.

"Last time? When have we _ever _had a conversation about a bunch of ants?"

"Well, if memory serves, it went something like this," he began, pausing to clear his throat dramatically. "

Helga couldn't help but gasp loudly and grin. "These are our ants?!" she said, in a higher pitch than usual. She was suddenly thrown back into a memory (as she had been several times that evening) consisting of constant bickering, deflated beds, and a flood resulting in an arrival to school the following day wherein both participants were completely soaked. "Man that was a long time ago…did you ever notice we always got paired up for the most bizarre projects? I mean, the one with the egg that hatched, and the diorama, and then there was the spelling bee and that time you made me disappear…" Helga rambled on, counting the different encounters between she and Arnold on her finger.

"You really have changed, Helga Pataki." Arnold remarked, smiling.

"You know, I'm hearing a lot of that tonight, but I don't see it. I mean, everyone here has changed a lot, and you've definitely changed. But…I don't know."

"What do you me 'I've definitely changed'?" Arnold asked.

"See! That, right there! You won't beat around the bush so much. That used to annoy the crap outta me when we were growing up. It was like, you wouldn't say exactly what you were thinking because you were so…concerned about everyone else." Helga said, setting the ant farm down.

"And you don't see how you've changed?" Arnold asked. His reply was a shrug and shake of the head from Helga. "You're more open, I'm not sure how to explain it. But it's better like this. I don't have to spend so much time trying to figure out why you are how you are."

Helga smiled and dramatically placed her hand over her heart. "You mean to say you spent time thinking 'bout little ol' me?" she laughed. Instead of an accompanying bout of laughter from Arnold, she was met with a short, simple, slightly breathless answer.

"Yeah."

Helga was suddenly very aware of where she was, not only in relation to Arnold's room but where she was in relation to Arnold. Since the conversation drifted from ants to the personality changes of themselves and others, Helga failed to notice that she was now standing closer to Arnold than she had since she could remember. The proximity immediately sent a shiver from the small of her back to the base of her neck. Half-heartedly weighing her options, she figured she could either run away and offend Arnold or stand completely still and stare at him. Against her better judgment, she went with the latter. Before she could fully comprehend that the breath inching loser to her was not her own, a boisterous voice echoed from the corner of the room.

"What are you guys doing in here?" Lila asked, hanging upside down in Arnold's skylight. She smiled in an oblivious way, not aware of the situation going on in the room. Arnold and Helga nearly leaped away from each other and answered in unison. "Nothing." Arnold, looking more amused than dejected, walked towards his staircase and shot Helga a smirk before closing the door behind him, leaving Helga and (half of ) Lila in his room. Helga climbed back on Arnold's bed and out of the skylight, while Lila lifted herself back out to make way for Helga.

"What?" Lila asked, absentmindedly noticing Helga's silence.

Helga pinched her index finger and thumb together and whispered. "This close Lila. This close."

Now back on the rooftop, Helga walked over to her aunt and sister who were now conversing near the refreshment table. Her aunt pulled her into (another) tight hug and held her out in front of her.

"I have missed you, Helga, but I'm so glad you're happy here." she said. Meanwhile, Olga glanced over the ledge, facing out to the street, and gestured to Dee. "Oh, um, I brought something for you. It's out in the van. Why don't you go get it?"

Helga wrinkled her nose. It was her present and she had to go fetch it. She considered asking her aunt if Nick or Bryan could go get it., but remembered how much her aunt hated that, and agreed to go. Instead of taking the stairs down, or going back through Arnold's room, she shocked a majority of the party by leaping off the side of the building, followed by the sound of a thud on rusty metal. She steadied herself on the ancient fire escape, and climbed down the alternating ladders. Walking out the alley, she walked across the street to her aunt's van, and tugged on the sliding back door. The door didn't give, and Helga pressed her face up to the glass to see if it was locked. It was. Sighing, Helga turned to walk back across the street and into the boarding house to retrieve the key, before a dark figure caught her attention in front of the boarding house. Helga walked across the street cautiously; wondering why someone would show up in front of a house in the middle of the evening and just stare at it. Once she was a few yards away, still standing somewhat in the road, she called out t to the person, asking if they needed any help.

The figure turned, and Helga was glad that she hadn't gotten her gift, as she would have promptly dropped it in the middle of the street. She nearly crumpled when she received her reply.

"Hi Helga." said the meek voice. She just about fell backwards when met with the impact of Helga's hug. Both girls had grown considerably in the last few years, but Helga was still a few inches taller than Phoebe. Phoebe, much to Helga's satisfaction, hadn't changed dramatically. Aside from being taller, she could see a confidence in Phoebe that only rendered itself on occasion in the past.

Their embrace was long and earnest, on the parts of both girls. When they did part, both erupted in fusions of laughter, crying and apologies for not trying harder to keep in touch. Phoebe explained about her dad's job back in Kentucky, and then how her uncle fell ill and her family spontaneously decided to stay there. She moved on to receiving an email from Arnold regarding Helga's return and asked her parents if she could come for a much needed visit. Fully understanding the dexterity of the situation, they obliged. Helga gave Phoebe the brief version of her own story, and again the two embraced, cried, laughed and advanced upstairs through Arnold's house, talking and laughing the until arriving at the door that led directly to the roof.

"Wait, Helga."

"Oh, it's cool, Pheebs," Helga said, stopping her. "According to all my references, Gerald's still single. You know I've got your back, Pheebs."

"Not that, Helga. We can discuss that later. You need to explain a few things to me…" Phoebe urged, holding on to Helga's arm. "Arnold mentioned himself and Lila in his email. Am I about to step into some kind of weird, love triangle, or something?"

Helga thought for a minute. Was she in a love triangle? Not that she was aware of. To be safe, she decided to explain anyway. "Well, what happened is this…when I came here, I had a boyfriend, and I met Candy, that's Lila, by the way, and I had to make up an alias. But then Sean, that's Lila's stepbrother, blackmailed me when he found out who I was even though he didn't really know why I was lying about who I was. Well, anyway, he blackmailed me and made me pretend to be his girlfriend. Then James, that was the first boyfriend, broke up with me to date my friend from Vermont, which is where I lived before I came back here. But they broke not too long ago. Anyway, I eventually told Arnold and Lila who I was, so Sean didn't blackmail me anymore, and now Arnold, Lila, Sean, James, Olga, my aunt Dee, cousins Nick and Bryan, and a slew of other miscellaneous friends from my past are now just behind this door celebrating my belated homecoming. Everything clear?" Helga said, smiling.

"That's more of a love quadrilateral, Helga." Phoebe replied, laughing.

Helga shrugged her shoulders and pushed on the door leading back out into the open rooftop. She was immediately approached by her aunt, whom she introduced Phoebe to. Helga stood back for a moment and watched her friends interact. The problem was not inn being away from people who meant so much to her. Not being able to see them on a regular basis was hard enough, but what Helga found most difficult was not being able to see them _happy_. Not seeing Phoebe find satisfaction in something as simple as an A+ on an assignment, or winning another fencing championship. Not seeing people's reactions so Arnold's unsolicited, and almost unexpected kindness. Even when in Vermont, living with her aunt and seemingly making up for a past she didn't want , she felt a metaphorical void. There was something missing; something that was taken from her, either by her parents, or something that she cast off from herself too long ago to remember, that she missed desperately. The feeling of having such things, things she could not quite identify at the time, returned to her, and threatened another crying episode.

"Oh there you are! How I've missed you, my dear old friend!"

Helga turned slowly, not sure what to expect. The voice, clearly aged and high-pitched alarmed and then relieved. Helga had a lot of "old" friends she was reuniting with, but this one had to be the oldest.

"Hi Gertie, how've you been?" she asked, welcoming the elderly woman with a hug. She spotted Arnold and his grandfather approaching through the crowd, not far behind.

"Oh Eleanor, it's been ages. How was your shore leave?" she asked, with the utmost sincerity. Helga was sure that one day, she'd have to inform Arnold's grandmother that Eleanor Roosevelt was dead and that she was just Helga Pataki. However, the old woman's eccentricity kept her from doing so.

"It was very lovely. But I'm glad to be home." she said, before greeting Phil. "Hi. I'm Helga Pataki."

Helga looked upon to older couple with a strange sense of pride (seeing as they weren't related to her or anything) and respect. She was never terribly close to Arnold's grandparents; aside from the Eleanor references and falling through the ceiling onto their breakfast table, they were practically strangers to her.

"Oh, I remember you now," the older man said, waving a outwardly frail hand at her. He was still about ahead or so taller than her, and most obviously older, and in a sign of respect, Helga held both of her hands behind her back. " You're the angry little girl with the one eyebrow, who used to jump rope in front of the house."

Helga's smile faltered a little, but stayed planted. 'They saw me…crap." she thought, panicking inwardly.

"Yes, I remember those days, Arnold here would come home covered in paint, or feathers, or just plain ornery, going on about some girl bullying him." he then fell into loud guffaws that Helga would have found obnoxious coming from, more or les, anyone else. Phil was smarter than either of them, and had seen the obvious, and didn't try to embarrass either of them with, what he saw as, the inevitable. Once he recovered from his laughter, he went on speaking. "I used to think that you were sweet on him, but I'm thinking it's the other way around nowadays. Why this by didn't even throw me a party at my 81st!" he exclaimed.

"Grandpa, that's because you thought you were dying. We had to gather around the bed, remember?" Arnold said, a noticeable blush, beginning to flare up on his face.

"No. No I don't." he replied.

Feeling it was her time to leave, Helga made mention of going to the food table and getting herself a plate. "it was nice meeting you all…again. Oh and thank you. Again." she said, nervously. From behind her she heard the admonition from Arnold's grandfather: "Stay away from the raspberry cobbler!", and turned to acknowledge his warning. Once at the food table, Helga was not surprised to find Arnold standing not far off.

"Can I help you with something?" Helga asked, avoiding eye contact, but choosing to inspect the macaroni and cheese someone put out for guests. Skipping over it, she decided to go with the garden salad.

"Sorry about my grandparents. And ignore the raspberry thing; that's just grandpa." Arnold said, scratching the back of his head anxiously.

"They're fine. I actually kind of like them." Helga replied, still moving down the table. Both of them were unaware of the party going on around them, and the several pairs of eyes following them from across the room. "So they think you're sweet on me, huh?" she asked, finally turning to him, smiling wider than usual.

"Yeah, not sure where they'd get that idea."

"Uh, of course not." Helga replied. "Well, anyway, my aunt was talking about me visiting her over summer vacation. Her house is pretty big, and she said I could invite some friends to come with me for two weeks or so. But since you obviously had so much fun missing me, you can just stay here in Hillwood, and await my return. You could…erect a statue of my exact likeness. A little summer project for you while I'm away. That and work my hours at the flower shop, of course." she said. Oh yeah. Helga G. Pataki was back alright.

Before Helga could protest, or slip in another witty comment, Arnold closed the distance between them, amidst a barely audible gasp from their collection of friends across the roof. Instead of sprinting off in fear or freezing up (as he anticipated would happen had he done this while they were alone in his room), Helga responded after a moment, shyly pressing her own lips forward. She was essentially only kissing his bottom lip, and he kissing her top, but the feeling for both was nothing short of elation. The kiss was over before most of the party goers were aware of it, and the two stood apart, staring, waiting for one or the other to speak and without being to evident, considering the possibility of initiating it again. Arnold spoke first, smiling and leaning back on the food table, in true Arnold fashion. Helga imagined the table collapsing under him; remembering the clumsiness of his youth, but figured that he'd grown out of that stage.

"That was your homecoming present. Welcome home, Helga." he said, gazing at her.

"Thank you." she replied, reacting as he did, as though a special moment was not just shared between them. 'No matter,' she figured. She knew this wasn't the last time they'd have such an encounter; the weather was warming up and she was scheduled to work tomorrow anyway. She'd settle things then. Another realization hit her, causing her to search the faces on the roof for her aunt. "Aunt Dee?" she called. Upon gaining her attention, she resumed speaking. "I went down to the van to get my gift or something and the doors were locked. Can I have the key?"

Dee and Olga shared a brief giggle before she turned back to Helga. "Oh, there was no present, sweetie. Olga told me about your friend coming back and I just wanted you near the door when her cab pulled up."

Helga shook her head and turned. Duped again.

'_It's good to be back home._' she repeated to herself. Back home indeed.

The End

* * *

You guys should be very proud of me. Knocked this baby out in…3 ½ years? Crap. Well, okay, don't be proud that it took me so long o finish this. Be proud because I updated this twice, each update between 4 months. Yeah, be proud of that. And I wrote a legitimate kiss! Whoot! I'm so happy. One-shots, drabbles and kisses; they're my kryptonite. But I've already conquered one-shots and drabbles, so who's to say I can't take down a kiss? Yes, baby, I can.

This chapter is called "Faith" because, well...to put it simply, I was listening to George Micheal when writing this. Sorry. The 80's were addictive.

Had to add in the episode references. Sorry if there's too much, but I've been watch VHS lately, and…well you know. And if you really want to know, I may have teared up a smidge when Phoebe came back. That's just me, though.

Speaking of drabbles, update in regards to the inspiration behind Coming in Sideways (if you don't know what I'm talking about, it's one of my drabbles. My best drabble, actually. Feel free to read it.), I went to get my wisdom teeth looked at and guess what? When I get them removed I get to have…Nitrous Oxide! Which is…Laughing Gas! Fantastic, I know. All I have to do is develop a crush on someone, elevate said crush to an obsession, acquire their phone number and hopefully I'll be under the influence enough to leave a heart-wrenchingly personal answering machine message, only to sneak into their house to retrieve it and in the end, escape through their remote-controlled couch. That's all I was thinking when the oral surgeon guy said "laughing gas". I'm that strange.

Okay, hope everyone enjoyed Back Home; go on and review if you want, but no pressure. usually do the whole review reply thing when a story ends, but so many people who reviewed got Author Replies not long after the reviewed, and now I can't remember who I replied to and who I didn't. But if you've been with the story since day one or if you just noticed it, it's all good. Much love, and many, many thanks! Ciao!

-PointyO

aka

Antoinette


	15. Epilogue I: So Wrong, It's Right

Back Home

Epilogue I: So Wrong, It's Right

* * *

Helga shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was convinced that _something _was spilled in her seat during the show prior, but no one would switch with her, or wanted to move to another row. Granted, if they were to so much as stand up, there would have been a myriad of eager moviegoers asking if their seats were free. She settled with brushing the seat off every few minutes, and checking her hand for moisture.

The unkempt state of the movie theatre wasn't the only thing that had her fidgeting. The party that she came with was starting to drive her a little bit crazy. From Hillwood, she brought with her Lila (who, after discovering the limitless stripper references that came with her name, decided to return to using her birth name) and Phoebe. Sean weaseled himself an invitation on Lila's coattails. Helga was trying to get used to being at least civil with him, realizing that he wasn't necessarily a bad person…just very, very stupid. Above all else (aside from Phoebe), Helga was glad that Arnold accepted her invitation, bringing Gerald with him. Along with Kirsten and James, the eight of them spent a majority of their summer vacation together. That night's outing was a movie, to a new and slightly tacky horror film.

Since arriving at the theatre, Helga was under the impression that something was about to happen. She'd catch her group of friends smiling deviously at one another or offering cryptic hand signals every so often. She was tempted to ask one of them what was going on, but didn't want them to know that she was suspicious, and kept quiet. Looking to her left, she was about to ask Arnold if he knew what was going on, only to find him blissfully unaware of the actions of his friends. Calming herself down, she resumed eating her overly salted popcorn and focused on the dimly lit screen, and waited for the movie to start.

Stealing another glance to her left, she allowed a small smile to grace her features, glad that, even if her friends were scheming something, she was (yet again) able to spend some with Arnold. They'd obviously spoken since the party, but never in the same manner, and most certainly not discussing anything that happened during the party. Helga found herself both relieved and disappointed by this. She was nearly certain that anything that happened on that night was on purpose, but still wanted some confirmation from Arnold. At the same time, she'd rather have an awkward "almost-more-than-friendship" with Arnold, than a far greater "awkward distant friendship", which would inevitably result from her mentioning that night. This realization however didn't stop her from thinking about the evening in detail on more than one occasion.

Pushing her thoughts aside, Helga readied herself as the lights dimmed, signaling the beginning of the movie. She didn't, however, notice the signal that spread amongst her friends; a silent and subtle nod to let everyone in the party, aside from the occupants of the two center seats, know that their plan was about to commence.

* * *

Arnold was back in middle school. Not in the sense that he was sitting in a classroom surrounded by acne-ridden preteen horrors, but in a metaphorical sense. It was very nearly the same as back then: someone had gotten a new pair of expensive shoes, or happened to catch the last three minutes of the basketball game that was stolen from him in the form of Oskar Kokoshka trying to pilfer the boarding house's cable wires, or _somebody _had broken up with _somebody else_ and started dating _another somebody _before _somebody _and _somebody else_ were officially over. Sighing and leaning onto his armrest, Arnold tried to brush off the familiar feeling.

He was, once again, out of the loop.

To his left, Gerald, James and Sean were talking and laughing in low voices, keeping whatever their conversation consisted of, out of Arnold's earshot. And to his right sat Lila, Phoebe, Kirsten and Helga, doing more or less the same thing, only with exaggerated hand movements and giggles.

Upon closer inspection, he found that Helga was not so much laughing with them, but observing them closer than he did his comrades. She was currently leaned over, nudging Phoebe and whispering something. From the way that Helga sat back, obviously frustrated, he was positive that they were ignoring her as well. Out of habit, he half expected her to insult all three of them and storm out of the theatre. In contrast, she remained seated, and looked half-heartedly at the dark screen.

Even before that moment, Arnold was silently taking notes on the changes that inhabited Helga, especially since they had arrived in Vermont for a portion of the summer. He saw how she dealt with her younger cousins, chiding them when necessary but treating them well also. He saw the respect that she held for both her aunt and Olga and admired her for it. Most of all, he could see her strength and growth. When he was younger, everyone knew that on October 5th, Arnold would not be playing catch, or going to a movie, or attending a party. Some knew why; the people who grew up with him, and were close to him during their childhood, but most, were simply left in the dark. Despite not knowing why he fell into such a glum mood on that same day every year, the inevitability of his bad mood was still painfully obvious to others.

Helga, however, rarely showed any signs of weakness, and when she did, they were slight, fleeting and easily covered over. The only occasion where Arnold saw her falter, for just a moment, was the evening when the eight friends were supposed to be playing laser tag. Helga was helping her aunt find a document when everyone arrived and Arnold volunteered to go inside and retrieve the girls so that they could be on their way. Helga's Aunt Dorothy answered the door and told him that Helga was finishing something up in the kitchen. When he entered, he found Helga staring silently at a piece of paper, her head cocked to the side, almost sadly. When he got her attention, she jumped up, shoved the paper underneath the pile that littered the table and waked past him, smile in place, letting him know she'd let the other girls know that it was time to leave.

Arnold felt badly about rummaging through other people's documents, but he was curious as to what made Helga look so introspective for a moment. He only had to sift through a few pieces of stapled forms before he found what, most likely, had captured Helga's attention. It was a photo, frayed around the corners, the yellow color also giving away its age. It was of two girls, both teenagers, sitting and leaning toward each other, heads touching, and on the edge of a pool with their feet wading in the water. Both looked familiar to him, though he couldn't place where from. One had curly, brown hair that ended at her shoulders and the other wore straight blonde hair that was a bit longer. They could have been twins, except for the fact that the blonde girl wore a pair of thin, rectangular shaped glasses.

It took Arnold a moment to figure out what exactly he was looking at, and when he did, he nearly dropped the photo. He imagined that it had been a number of years since Helga had seen either of her parent's likenesses in a photo, and it must have shocked her, if nothing else, to see it for the first time in so many years.

Although he felt for her, Arnold knew better than to bring it up, especially in mixed company. He hadn't however, had so much as a moment alone with Helga to ask about it, if that was what he wanted to do to begin with. He figured that if he was supposed to bring it up, then the opportunity would present itself.

Peeking to his right, he looked over to see if Helga was still upset over their friends ignoring (and possibly conspiring against) them. She seemed to be calm, her eyes still focused forward, waiting for the lights to go down and the show to start. Even if they were rarely if ever "alone" and he wasn't always able to speak with her as freely as he would have liked, he was still happy to have her in his company. Looking skyward, he noticed the lights beginning to dim and the packed movie theatre begin to quiet down. For a moment, he was sure that he saw something transpire between his friends to his left, but decided to ignore it.

* * *

"Aghhh! My stomach!" Lila wailed abruptly, clutching her midsection and folding over in her chair. Twisting her face into one that clearly expressed her "pain", she snuck a glance towards Arnold and Helga, only to find their horrified and concerned faces looking back at her. "Oh, the pain! The inconceivable pain…" she said, eventually dropping to her knees and resisting a smile. She may have been going over the top a bit, but was convinced that she had to sell it…literally.

A few moviegoers hushed her, while others were genuinely worried. Phoebe jumped into action then, announcing that she would take Lila to the girl's restroom, and that she needed Kirsten's help to get her there. The three girls hastily bustled up the row and down the steps, leaving Helga as the only female of the party left seated.

Before she could so much as open her mouth to protest, or ask the rest of her faction what was going on, she noticed the disturbance that was slowly spreading through the boys. Each one stood, in almost synchronized order, and she overheard Arnold asking why to each of them. Even though she was leaning over, she could only catch a few words from each boy's reply.

_"…check on Phoebe…"_

_"…Kirsten has my phone in her bag…"_

_"…she _is_ my stepsister…"_

Looking from her left to her right, she tried to fully register what was happening, or rather, what had just happened, when she heard shuffled footsteps coming from both sides. Two parties, consisting of three people each were already swooping down on the now empty seats that her friends previously occupied. Before she and Arnold could spread their arms over the dark-red seats, they were already taken, leaving them tucked closer together between strangers. Her face registered only confusion, while Arnold's was in shock. He figured that he should have seen it coming, with the way the boys were acting earlier that night.

* * *

_"And remember, she's still allergic to strawberries."_

_"I got it."_

_"And remember," began another voice form behind him. "She doesn't like roses. Don't get her roses."_

_"I got it."_

_"And also, she hates rats. Don't even mention them."_

_"I got it."_

_"And also, if you put your hand on her knee, she will stab you with her jewelry. No lie."_

_"I got it." This was getting annoying now…_

_"And also-"_

_"I GOT IT!" Arnold said, throwing his hands up and turning around. For a moment, he wondered why the conversation drifted to such an unusual place, and lingered there for so long. If anything was going on between himself and Helga, he was almost certain that none of the guys really cared._

_Arnold was glad that he wasn't the only one to take Helga up on her offer to spend a few weeks of the summer vacation up north with her relatives, but was certainly not expecting everyone to accept the invitation. With him came Gerald and Sean (for reasons he could never wrap his mind around…Helga never really invited Sean) and Helga brought with her Lila (who later decided that with all the name confusion that had taken place over the last few months, to stick with her birth name) and Phoebe. Along with Kirsten and James, the group normally went out as a whole, even though the boys stayed with James and his family. Tonight, the group decided to go see another movie, and even though it wouldn't be just the two of them, Arnold was still frustrated with the unnecessary advice. It only seemed to heighten his anxiety about the evening._

_"Has it occurred to any of you, that I've known Helga longer than all of you combined?" Arnold said, calming down._

_James' room was silent for a moment before he himself spoke. "True, but I actually dated her."_

_"I did too!" Sean said, raising his hand like an enthusiastic four year-old._

_Arnold rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you did date her." he said to James, pretending to be convinced. "But you also cheated on her. With her best friend. And you," he began, looking over at Sean. "You didn't date her, you blackmailed her."_

_James and Sean exchanged looks, before replying in unison, "Touché."_

_"Don't worry guys, Arnold has this covered, right?" Gerald asked, smiling from across the stately bedroom. James' room had little furniture in it, but it seemed crowded with all four boys in there at once._

_"I do?" Arnold asked, wondering where Gerald's newfound confidence in him came from._

_"Of course. I mean, this isn't the first time you've been out with Helga, anyway." he said, casting his bait._

_"What is that supposed to mean? When was I ever out with Helga?" Arnold asked, shocked._

_"Well." Gerald began, smiling a bit wider and sitting up straight. "There was the time you took her to the April Fools Day Dance, and that time at the French place. You know, the one with the smelly cheese…"_

_"Alright, Gerald, I get it."_

_"Although that one might not count, because of the roaches, and then we had to wash dishes…"_

_"Thank you, Gerald. That will be all."_

_"And you did spend a lot of time with her at that one party, but it may have been because she was dressed like Lila. And then, that one time-"_

_"Thank you Gerald." Arnold said, sternly, attempting to maintain his cool. "And what do you guys mean by "I'm going out with Helga?" We're _all _going, right?" he asked._

_Each young man looked around the room, before muttering excuses about getting ready and leaving Arnold alone in the bedroom. Before Arnold could roll his eyes and exit, Gerald poked his head back into the room and spoke._

_"Relax, my man, we were just jokin'. Gerald said. "Everything will be fine. This is not foreign territory at all."_

_Once again, Arnold was left alone with his thoughts, most of those being of confusion. Relaxing as Gerald suggested, he hoped that the night would go on as planned._

_Unfortunately, he was uninformed of what exactly those "plans" entailed._

* * *

"What just happened?" Helga asked a few moments later, as the opening music of the film boomed from the nearby speakers.

Looking Helga square in the eye, Arnold replied with a sigh, "We've just been duped."

* * *

After considering the most effective method by which they would punish their friends (while, at the same time, internally thanking them for doing what they were too chicken to do themselves), Arnold and Helga decided to at least try to enjoy the movie. Unfortunately, the movie was incredibly cheesy and predictable. So much so, that instead of being genuinely scared, or leaving the theatre altogether (as many viewers did), they decided to stay and place bets on how the film would turn out. Helga had already won three Mister Fudgey bars after predicting that the killer would escape from prison through an air duct, instead of killing a security guard, and guessing that the heroine's promiscuous best friend would die first, and Arnold won two bags of jellybeans for guessing that the building that the teens inhabited would lose electricity and that the killer's weapon of choice would be an already bloody, butcher knife.

The two watched with humor as the main character walked backwards into an abandoned bathroom, slowly, looking for a place to hide.

"I bet you one bag of gummy worms that it's going to be a lamp that she bumps into that scares her, and not the killer." Helga said, leaning to the side to talk to Arnold, but keeping her eyes on the screen.

"What would a lamp be doing in a bathroom?" he asked. "I see your bag of gummy worms, and raise you one more bag on the notion that she trips over her cat and screams."

"You're on." she replied. The two watched as the blonde-haired girl whimpered, before falling backwards and screaming. An orange and white striped cat leaped from beneath her and out of the bathroom, knocking over a lamp and alerting the shadowed killer of her whereabouts in the house.

"Told you!" they both said loudly in the near-empty movie theatre. They no longer felt the need to keep their voices down, as most of the audience had left and the few remaining moviegoers were probably doing the same thing as them: laughing at the movie in front of them.

"What are you talking about?" Helga asked. "I totally called the lamp, Arnold!"

"And I _totally _called the cat, Helga." he said, mimicking her diction. "Valley Girl, much?" he asked, flipping an invisible tuft of hair over his shoulder.

Helga was beginning to get used to his sarcasm, but still smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand for making fun of her. "Don't change the subject; I win. You owe me _so _many gummy worms."

"You did not win, Helga! She tripped over the cat, which means I win." he said, chuckling.

"Yeah, but when she tripped over the cat, it bumped into a lamp. So, since she technically caused the cat to bump into the lamp, she herself bumped into the lamp by proxy." she reasoned.

"No, you can't win this with your big words and your perfect grammar." Arnold said, crossing his arms.

"Fine, the final bet," Helga began, seeing that the movie was coming to and end in a few minutes. "Five bags of sour gummy bears says that her boyfriend is going to be the last person to die."

Arnold wrinkled his brow. "Agreed. Same wager, on the detective dying last."

"Which one?"

"The one with the glasses." Arnold replied, pointing at the screen, as said detective appeared on the screen and dramatically removed his eyeglasses. "That one, right there."

"Oh, I hope not; he's cute." Helga said.

Arnold ignored the twinge of jealously he suddenly felt toward the fictional character, and replied, "Exactly why he must die…"

* * *

A few minutes later, Arnold and Helga exited the movie theatre, laughing and smiling.

"So who wins?" Helga asked, after calming down a bit.

"Well, even though the boyfriend did die, the detective's body wasn't discovered until afterwards. So, I guess we both win."

"Fair enough." Helga replied, smiling. "So where do you think everyone went?" she asked, looking around the movie theatre lobby.

"I'm not sure, but I doubt they're still here." he said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I guess we can just walk home then. You can call James from my aunt's house." she said, making her way to the doors, dodging the people that were currently going into the movie theatre. She looked back to find Arnold looking slightly worried, and read why almost instantaneously. "It's only a few blocks, promise. Actually, if we cut through the park, it'll be faster. It's about the distance from the flower shop to school, back home."

Arnold caught up with her, and smiled warmly until he caught her attention as well. "So Hillwood is considered 'home'?" he asked, knowingly.

"Hillwood has always been my home…I just didn't appreciate it until recently." she answered, grinning in reply.

"Well, if I didn't say so earlier, everyone is glad to have you back." he said, earnestly.

"You did. But I didn't mind hearing it again." she said, as they walked shoulder to shoulder down the sidewalk and into the park. Daylight was beginning to fade and the park was getting foggy, but still lit well enough to walk through. "Just when I was starting to think Hillwood wouldn't hold any good memories…"

Arnold squared his shoulders, mentally preparing himself to ask the question that had him thinking for the past couple of days. "Helga…can I ask you a question?"

"You just did." she joked. "Of course you can. Shoot."

"Well, a few days ago, when I came by to pick you guys up for laser tag, you seemed a little distracted. And, I didn't meant to go through your stuff-"

"You saw the photo, didn't you?" she asked, to which Arnold could only nod, meekly. Plastering on a smile, Helga shook her head, jokingly chiding him. "Sneaky fox."

"The reason why I brought it up is because, I wanted to make sure you were okay." he said, wringing his hands together.

"I'm alright." she answered halfheartedly, before her face fell into an awkward smile, most evident about it being the confusion and realization that came with it. "I mean…I know my aunt didn't mysteriously "lose" all photographic evidence of my parents once I came to live with her. I'm sure she's got tons of pictures of them around the house. And I know it sounds weird to say "Out of sight, out of mind', but that's kind of how it was. I don't know, it was just weird…after such a long time. It kind of caught me off guard." she confessed.

"But thanks for asking. I'll be okay, promise." she said, smacking him lightly across the back to make her point. "Who would have thought I'd ever be having this conversation with you, Arnoldo?"

Arnold looked over, feigning coldness with the look on his face. "Are we going to start again with the nicknames? Because, let me assure you, I've been out of the game for a while now, but I'm sure I could come up with something."

Throwing her hands up defensively, Helga replied. "I'm sorry. It's weird just calling you "Arnold". Nicknames come very easily to me, that's all."

"Well, maybe I should come up with one for you, just to be safe…"

"Well, if you absolutely have to, make sure it encompasses my exquisite beauty, intellectual superiority, biting wit and…obsession with the color purple." she said, laughing.

"You like purple? I always thought your favorite color was pink." he noted.

"Nah. Pink is okay, I guess, but I was always wearing Olga's hand-me-downs, and she loves pink."

"Hmm, interesting…" Arnold said, rubbing his chin. "I think I'll call you Pinky."

"That's not fair! That doesn't do anything for my exquisite beauty or intellect-"

"Not my problem, Pinky." he answered.

Helga scoffed at him, and put on an upset demeanor. "You're infuriating. I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Who said I wanted you as a friend?" Arnold said, without a hint of malice in his voice.

"Well if you don't want me as a friend, what-" Helga began, before a strange noise interrupted her. It sounded suspiciously like a car horn, but wasn't convinced, since they weren't close enough to the entrance of the park to hear one. She and Arnold turned around, only to find a lone goose, perfectly white and clean, honking at them from behind.

Smiling at her own nervousness, she explained that the geese in the park spent the entire summer at the nearby pond, before flying farther south. They were unusual for most waterfowl; they were very used to people and would often approach them.

"I guess they're all so used to getting food from people, they decided to come right up to us and ask." Helga joked. She held out her empty hands and shrugged, signaling that she had no food on her.

The bird seemed to understand, and turned its back on the two, only to continue honking. Within moments, there geese coming out of the fog, from nearly every direction, but moving slowly towards one goal. Helga backed up to where Arnold was, looking suspiciously at the number of geese coming towards them. "Maybe we should…"

"Leave? Yeah, good idea."

The two turned quickly, but cautiously back towards the path to the entrance of the park, only to be startled again, from a similar 'honk' from behind. Without stopping to turn back around, Arnold and Helga began walking faster and faster, until they were practically running from the myriad of patters on the cobblestone, and the incessant honks from behind them. Momentarily ignoring the path before them, they ran into the grass, ankle high from neglect and damp from the fog, in an attempt to find shelter. Leaping over fallen tree branches and dodging forgotten bicycles, Helga bounded ahead, catching a glimpse of the park opening not far off. In a matter of moments, they were back on the path, with only a fraction of the crazed geese chasing them. Hastily glancing both ways, they sprinted across the empty street and around a rather large puddle, to collapse on the sidewalk.

Skimming the road for any sign of demented birds, Helga noticed the flock of geese, standing o the opposite side of the road, flapping their wings and shifting from one leg to the other. For a moment, they looked defeated, but Helga had seen that look and stance in birds before, and would not be fooled. Instinctively, she covered her head and brought her knees to her chest, and remained like that for a few seconds. Uncovering her head, she looked around, specifically up at the sky and then at Arnold, who asked her what was wrong.

She was all too aware that there was the possibility that she'd embarrassed herself beyond belief in that evening, but considering the fact that in their first three meetings since she returned to Hillwood consisted of her running into an open door, diving to the ground to pick up an imaginary contact lens and getting sprayed with a hose, she figured that she'd embarrassed herself thoroughly enough. Nevertheless, Helga wasn't quite prepared to let Arnold know that whenever she was in his presence (or the presence of something of his, like a hat or his chewing gum formed into his exact likeness) that she would suddenly become a toilet for birds.

"I have a…thing…with birds." she answered. The birds by then had retreated back into the park, honking their disapproval as they went.

"Okay…are you alright?" he asked, laughing at the events that had unfolded since leaving the theatre.

"Yeah. That was kind of crazy though."

"Well, it could have been worse." Arnold reasoned.

"How, pray tell, could it have been worse?" Helga asked, somewhat afraid of the response.

"Instead of a flock of demon waterfowl, we could have been chased by…a ghost. Of a headless cabbie. Searching the park for her demon Scottie dog." he said, with a serious look on his face.

Helga was silent for a moment before answering. "I'm not even going to ask." she said, attempting to stand up.

"Well, we could have-"

Arnold was abruptly cut off by a large truck, whizzing past them on the street. The sped of the truck alone would have startled them enough, had the driver not maneuvered his vehicle down the center of the large puddle that Arnold and Helga dodged on their way across the street. The two youths sat on the sidewalk, eyes and mouths shut tightly, with water dripping down their faces, clothes and skin, leaving dirt and grime in its wake.

"..Been splashed by a speeding truck and covered in freezing cold, muddy water on the side of the street?" Helga asked, finishing his statement for him.

"Yeah. I still think this is better than the cabbie, though." Arnold joked, standing up and pulling Helga up with him. Let's get you home and dried off, Pinky."

* * *

Walking home drenched in icy water wasn't bad.

Being spotted hand in hand with Arnold from up the street and being met with a chorus of laughter at one's current state of dress wasn't terrible.

Missing the group of friend's daily outing (today's was miniature golf) wasn't anything to stress over.

However, being lectured by one's aunt, while sitting on the living room couch, wrapped in a blanket, because you're sick from being splashed by a truck after outrunning a hoard of insane geese after your friends have abandoned you with your crush at a cheesy movie, while your so-called "friends" look on and snicker at your suffering, might just be the thing that kills you. Which may be why the sound of the doorbell is all too welcomed.

Motioning to get up, Helga was stopped by her aunt, who insisted that she get the door. Helga heard her open the door, letting the boys inside, as she left for work. One by one, they entered the living room, Helga greeting each of them with a scowl. She was certain that they were inwardly laughing at her as well. James tossed her a plastic bag, filled with DVDs that he picked up for her and Arnold. Her face softened when Arnold finally entered the room, looking just as miserable and sick as she. He perched himself on the couch lazily, before letting loose a sneeze into the tissue that he was holding.

"Hey." Helga said, as he recovered.

"Hey." he replied, tiredly.

"Need a blanket?"

"Um, yeah, probably."

Helga looked around momentarily, and upon not finding a nearby blanket, she simply removed half of her blanket from her own shoulder and draped it around Arnold's.

Aww! That is adorable!" Lila commented, clapping her hands, and hopping in place like an excited puppy." Helga only rolled her eyes in response. "Well, we're heading out. Remember to drink plenty of fluids."

"Gotcha." Arnold and Helga replied in unison.

"And make sure to have some soup, okay?"

"Yup."

"And try to actually _watch _the movie…no use staying home sick if you're just going to spend the whole time swapping germs-"

Helga picked up a nearby throw pillow and fulfilled its purpose by...throwing it, specifically at Lila, hitting her square in the face. Reeling from the hit, Lila tucked the few loosed strands of hair from her face, and smiled when Helga pointed forcefully at the front door. The other six youths quietly left, muttering goodbyes from the door. From the hallway, Helga could hear Lila speak, as she figured was Lila's purpose in talking so loud:

"People get so violent when they get boyfriends…"

Once the door shut, Helga rolled her eyes before setting them back on Arnold. He was smiling back at her; she was unsure whether it was because he was generally glad to see her, or if the antibiotics were kicking in.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked her after a few more seconds of staring.

"Not really." Helga replied, relaxing back on top of the couch.

"Want me to make you some soup?"

"No, let's just watch a movie. What did you guys pick up?"

"I'm not sure; I was still in the car." Arnold noisily rummaged through the plastic bag and dug out three DVD cases, and began reading the movie titles. "Looks like we have 28 Days Later, 28 Weeks Later and I Am Legend." he said, dryly.

"Think they were trying to tell us something?" Helga joked.

"You do pick up on those kinds of things quickly, don't you?" Arnold asked.

"Maybe if _you _picked up on them as quickly, I wouldn't have had to _tell _you who I was…but then again, you always were kind of dense, weren't you, Footballhead?" Helga asked, smiling, and turning towards him.

Despite his friend's warning, Arnold leaned forward and planted a chaste kiss on Helga's lips, and pulled away before she could react. Leaning back, he looked her in the eyes and smiled at the slightly dazed look that she wore.

Touché, Pinky. Now kindly pick a movie and be quiet."

* * *

Agghh! Don't you hate me right now? Don't you just wanna come through the computer at me? I mean, I leave you hanging for nearly a year, only to reveal (le gasp!) I'm _not _done! I'm quite _undone _in fact. Oh, this is rich. This is too good for words.

Honestly, I was planning this for a while. I knew that when I "finished" Back Home, that I wasn't done, but I had to find a way to sneak-attack you. So I thought to myself, "Self, let's wait a little while. Let's make them think Back Home is all donsies, and just when they forget all about it--BOOM!" This is sort of a treat for all the readers who said "this is nice but what about…" or, some who thought there were "definite holes", or as one reviewer stated, "the fic seems to me "a story of guns that never shot" (This in no way is attacking them…I'd actually like to thank them for motivating me that much more to write this series of Epilogues. You guys are awesome, BTW). I think I succeeded.

Did you notice the chapter title? Yeah. There's more to come. Stay tuned.

Hope you enjoyed!

-PointyO


	16. Epilogue II: Revenge is a Meal

****

Back Home

Epilogue II: Revenge is a Meal Best Served…With Condiments

"So, what do we have for Gerald?"

"Horseradish."

"Oh, that'll be fun. How about Lila?"

"Mayonnaise."

"Good, good…Sean?" Helga asked, still taking down all their notes in writing.

Arnold paused, and eyed Helga knowingly. "Is this really a good idea?" he asked.

Helga saw this coming. Arnold's conscience would eventually come into play and try to ruin all her fun. Regardless, she remained steadfast in her plot, knowing that this scheme wouldn't necessarily _harm _anyone. A childish prank that would end in laughs for everybody. Except maybe her friends. It might take them a while to get the joke.

"Of course it's a good idea! Why do you even have to ask?"

"Because…" he began. "Maybe it's not exactly necessary for you to get revenge. Maybe we can all just sit down, and talk-"

"Nope. Not an option. You can go ahead and sweep that little angel off of your shoulder, because I'm going through with this, with or without you." she said, picking up her notebook. It was then, that she remembered something. "In fact, maybe you _shouldn't _be in on this."

Arnold blew his nose into a tissue and looked at Helga over the white cloth. The two were still feeling the effects of their brief cold and opted to stay home. The rest of their friends were off again, which is how Helga got the idea to get them back for all of the pranks they'd pulled on her. From her first surprise party, to being kidnapped to ensure her attendance at her second surprise party to being left alone in a movie theatre with Arnold, she felt that she deserved a little retribution.

"What do you mean, 'I _shouldn't _be in on this'?" Arnold asked, shocked that his girlfriend would be so quick to eliminate him from her ruse.

"Well, you _did _have a part in my party back in Hillwood. And who's to say you _weren't _a share in the fiasco at the movies the other night?" she asked suspiciously.

"Hey! Okay, yes, I helped plan the party, but I didn't know they'd get James and Sean to mock-kidnap you. All they told me was that they had 'ways' of getting you to the party." he said, defending himself. "And as for the movies, as happy as I am that their plan turned out so well, I definitely didn't have any role in planning it." he assured her.

Helga eyed him warily, a small smile apparent on her face. "Regardless, do you have any food condiments that you can't stand?" she joked.

"No, but I'm aware of at least one of yours." he said deviously.

"You wouldn't…how do even know I'm still allergic?" she quizzed him.

"James told me the night they ditched us at the movies."

"Ah ha! So you _were _in on it!" she said, pointing to him dramatically. "No matter, you already know about my master plan, so I guess it'd be stupid to try and pull it on you…" she finished, scribbling again in her notebook.

Ignoring her simulated accusation, Arnold went back to scheming alongside Helga. "Alright, what do you have on the girls?"

"Well, Phoebe dislikes spray cheese, and Kristin cannot stand ketchup. And you never got back to me about Sean, or James for that matter."

"Oh yeah." Arnold said, flipping through the pages in his own notebook. "Sean doesn't like honey." he said simply.

"Honey? Who doesn't like honey?" Helga asked. "No matter; it'll do _wonders _to his hair, though…what about James?"

"I couldn't get anything on James."

"What do you mean, 'you couldn't get anything on him'? How hard is it to ask someone what they don't like to eat?" Helga asked. She wasn't angry, but all the talk of food had her hungry…for vengeance. Resisting the urge to laugh manically as she used to (only she was more accustomed to doing so behind a dumpster), Helga whirled back to face Arnold, who was looking slightly bored, sitting on the floor of her bedroom in Vermont. "I got it!" she said, after a few moments of recollection.

"Pardon?" asked her companion.

"It's mustard! I remember because it was…at my field hockey game, a few weeks before I left. He'd gotten a hot dog from the concession stand, and I guess he didn't tell them that he didn't want mustard on it, because it was covered in the stuff." Helga said, remembering the incident and laughing.

"Really…" Arnold said, his reply monotone and slightly peeved.

"And to make it worse, this other senior pummels past him, and gets mustard all over his sweatshirt, and he has to walk around the stadium in mine for the rest of the night!" she ended, collapsing in the bed in a fit of laughter.

"Ya' don't say…"

Sensing Arnold's morose disposition, Helga lowered herself to the floor and looked at him in the eye. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Let's get back to planning, shall we?"

"No. Let's _not_. Tell me what's wrong." she said, sitting up straight. If she had said anything to upset Arnold she wanted to know right away instead of prolonging it. "Do you really not want to go through with the prank? It's just a joke, but if-"

"Nothing is wrong, Helga." he interrupted, looking at her in the eye as well. "It's just that…I like James, okay? He's cool for letting me and Gerald an Sean stay over, and he's been nothing but genuine since we got here. But to be perfectly honest, he's your ex-boyfriend. And hearing about something as simple as a story about his likes or dislikes, still unnerves me. I'm not sure why, but it does."

Helga sat across from Arnold, taken aback by his disclosure. "Wow…I'm sorry. I really…I didn't even…I'm sorry…" she continued, trying to apologize for something she didn't realize she was doing, and working to keep a smile from her face. She hoped that the latter would go unnoticed by Arnold, but was sorely disappointed when it did not.

"The grin you're wearing says otherwise." he said, allowing a small smile to grace his face as well. Helga was sure that he wasn't angry at her; just annoyed with the situation.

After she realized that Arnold was not mad (at least not at her), Helga beamed as she spoke.

"No, I really am sorry, it's just that…you're jealous. And that's weird, for me." she replied, not quite understanding herself. "Wait, that came out wrong; hear me out, okay? It's weird because…I spent so much of my childhood being jealous of you."

"Why would you be jealous of me?"

Helga fidgeted, and tried to clarify her thoughts. "Well, not exactly _you_. I was more jealous of…Ruth. Ruth P. McDougal. Or Lila Sawyer. Or some random older chick you met at the beach named Autumn, or something. But I really am sorry; it's just different, being in your company, and not having to worry about who else you might be thinking about." Helga said, diverting her gaze and speaking in a low voice. She only smiled, when she heard Arnold's deep chuckling. Sliding his hand over hers, Arnold met her gaze tenderly.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're crazy?" he asked, smiling.

"Once or twice." Helga replied, allowing the smile to finally reach her eyes. "Okay, that's enough mushy stuff; we have less than two hours to conspire against our friends." she announced, turning away from Arnold playfully.

Planting a chaste kiss on Helga's cheek, Arnold responded equally and focused again on his paper. "Whatever you say, Helga…"

* * *

"Why are we here at the _back _door?" Arnold asked, looking out of the window and down at Helga's backyard.

Moving a cardboard box with a towel draped over it, covering it's contents, Helga replied, "Because I've already bolted the front door, to which none of them possess a key, forcing them to have to come around to the back door. And before you ask, I gave Nick and Bryan ten bucks each to lock the gate behind them. No chances of those guys getting back to the front yard."

"Can you promise me something?" Arnold asked.

"What?"

"When you finally do achieve world domination, can I live _above _ground with the rest of the servants?" he asked sarcastically. The thought that Helga planned the entirety of this scheme before dinner was both hilarious and slightly frightening.

"Honey, you're going to live in the castle with me." Helga replied, going along with the joke.

"Really? _I_ get to live in the castle?" Arnold said, feigning shock.

"Of course. You're going to be my number one concubine." Helga smiled, suddenly turning back to the window. Before Arnold could take offense, Helga spoke again. "Shhh, they're coming up the street."

The two ducked down lower as their friends rounded to corner to the home of Helga's aunt, talking and laughing loudly. It took them only a few short minutes to reach the front door, where Helga heard their muted groans upon finding it locked tight.

_"Don't worry, there's a back door."_ James said, taking the lead and opening the door to the wooden fence. Helga smiled, as she peeked over the windowsill to see Nick and Bryan (dressed in ponchos, as a precaution) closing and locking the fence door silently. No one in the group turned around, or even noticed them. Nudging Arnold, Helga willed him to sit up; no lights were on in the house, so it was unlikely, that even in the early evening, the pair would be seen in the window. Hoping that three floors up was also enough to hide the, they looked down on their friends. As soon as James put his hand on the door handle, Helga turned around and whipped the towel off of the cardboard box. Inside, she and Arnold smiled at the numerous water balloon filled with anything but water. At first, they planned on color-coding the balloons, so that they'd know what they were throwing at whom. But, after a little negotiation, they thought it's be funnier to have each for their friends covered in a mixture of all the condiments.

_"They're both locked?"_ Lila squealed from the backyard.

_"Anyone home?"_ Kristen shouted, calling out to the windows of the second and third level of the house.

"Ready?" Helga whispered, fingering a bright pink water balloon.

"Ready." Arnold said, taking two in his hands.

With lightning speed, the pair stood and turned to the window, hurling the balloons at their friends. It wasn't until Gerald was pelted that the occupants of the backyard realized what was going on. They immediately scattered, screaming, looking for a way out. Nick and Bryan held fast to the fence door, keeping them from escaping. Helga and Arnold continued aiming at their friends, laughing at the sight of them running around the grassy lawn, seeking refuge behind shrubs, lawn furniture and Aunt Dee's rusted old grill. None of these provided much protection; either someone's, foot, or back, or head stuck out, and Arnold and Helga aimed mercilessly until their stash was depleted. Instead of waiting to watch them come in from the massacre, Arnold and Helga dashed downstairs and leapt on the couch, scrambled for the remote control, and resumed watching the movie that they paused halfway through.

When their six comrades did eventually make it inside (though Arnold and Helga couldn't figure out how), they shuffled into the living room area. Both Helga and Arnold vowed that when their friends entered, they would look as disinterested as possible. This was immediately broken when each member of their posse came in, a rainbow of condiments decorating each of them. Helga almost kept from crying out in laughter, until she saw Lila come in, with thick globs of mayonnaise falling off of her face and down her shoulder. Arnold and Helga collapsed on the couch, grasping for each other to somehow quell their laughter. In addition to each person being covered in food, they were also soaking wet.

Gerald spoke first, who was, next to Lila, the worst attacked of them all. "There is mustard inside of my nose. Either of you wanna tell me how it happened to get there?"

"Why…are…you all wet?" Helga cried, pointing at each of her friends, trying to wipe tears from her eyes at the same time.

"Nick and Bryan thought it'd be fun to 'hose us down'." James said, annoyed, which only sent Arnold and Helga into another wave of unrestrained laughter.

"Remind me to pay them each an extra five bucks for that." Helga said, finally looking at Arnold.

"You did this?!" Phoebe said, stepping forward, remnants of horseradish dotting her arms and legs.

"Doi. You guys think you can plan parties and kidnap me and assume that it won't come back to get you?" Helga asked, calming down, and leaning back on the couch.

"So why'd _you _do it?" Gerald asked Arnold.

"Because if I hadn't, " he began. "I might have looked like you guys."

Watching their friends retreat to the upper level of the house, more than likely to salvage at least come of their clothes, Helga turned to Arnold and extended her hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you." she said.

Arnold moved forward, seizing Helga's lips for a split second, before leaning back on the couch across from her. "Likewise."

* * *

__

Yeah, that's my second epilogue. Really doesn't do much in regards to…explaining anything. But a certain reviewer pointed out that Helga's friends play a lot of tricks on her. So I thought, 'Hey, Mr. Reviewer! You're right! She should do something about it!' So she did. I might as well go on and dedicate this chapter to this reviewer, since this is about the second time I've referenced one of their reviews. Alright, fine, this is dedicated to you (and you know who you are).

The next epilogue will not be Arnold/Helga romance (le gasp!), but there shall be romance. But I'm not going to tell whom it will include. And it's probably not who you think it is. Granted, I did attempt writing such a romance, but it started to fizzle and get all weird and wonky, so I had to ditch it.

Chapter Eleven of The Compromise is (more or less) complete; I just have to tweak it a smidge. So, look out for it.

Hope you enjoyed!

-PointyObjects


	17. I Carry Your Heart with Me

****

Back Home

Epilogue III: I Carry Your Heart With Me

* * *

__

"I carry your heart with me,

I carry it in my heart.

I am never without it.

Anywhere I go you go, my dear;

And whatever is done by only me

Is your doing, my darling."

* * *

"You did what?!" exclaimed the tall blonde, pacing around her apartment living room, idly rearranging stacks of magazines and picture frames. She was dressed in her usual Saturday evening attire, a navy blue sweatshirt with "Wellington University" across the front in white letters, and her favorite pair of blue jeans. Both pieces were worn and old, and not suitable for leaving the house, something Olga had no intention of doing. "Filled with…condiments?" she continued, cracking a smile. She shouldn't have expected anything less from her younger sister.

"Well, I'm glad you're having a nice time." she said, sitting down on her ivory couch. And she was telling the truth. She was glad that Helga was having a nice time in Vermont with her friends. But the truth was, despite wanting to see her sister happy, she still felt the pang of loneliness every so often. She was so accustomed to having Helga in the apartment, or anticipating her arrival home from school or work, that she wasn't sure how to handle being alone again. That, and the fact that her breakup with Drew was still fresh in her mind. A few short weeks ago, she had Helga and Drew to turn to, and now she was feeling more isolated than ever.

The truth was that Olga was never close to very many people. In her school days, she was painfully shy around her peers, and even if she wasn't, they often left her alone. No one wanted to be friends with every teacher's favorite student at the risk of comparison. When she advanced to college, she made a few friends, but her goals were so different from theirs; she wanted to travel, and to teach and to help people, whereas most of her classmates just wanted to drink and make money, leaving her alone again. When attending the university, she fell into the habit of turning on music loudly and dancing around, not only to quell a bad mood, but to give off the illusion that she had friends, that she wasn't alone. Olga Pataki was never suited to be solitary, but found herself playing that role more often than not.

When she did meet Drew a few years prior, she admitted that she was all too eager to get to know him. He didn't mind that she spoke in a high-pitched voice sometimes, or that she cooed every time she saw a baby or a puppy or a butterfly. All of things that naturally made people ignore her were overlooked by Drew as if they were nothing at all.

And as much as she loved Drew (and as sure as she was that he loved her equally in return) she knew where her responsibilities lay. If she ever felt that Helga would be ignored or overlooked, she would do all that she had to, just to prevent it. Her relationship with Helga was still new; even after the night that Helga tried to return to Vermont, they still quarreled, though less often, and usually for less severe reasons. They were still growing used to one another, and having another person that Helga would have to grow to know (and hopefully love, as a brother), would only complicate things further. And so, when Drew gave her an ultimatum, a marriage or nothing at all, her thoughts flew to Helga, and her decision was made. She would not regret it.

Olga was brought out of her thoughts, when Helga paused in her story about the "Condiment Massacre", as she called it. "What's wrong, Helga?" she asked, sitting up straight.

"Nothing." she said, growing quieter. If Olga wasn't Helga's sister; if she didn't know her as well as she did, she wouldn't have noticed Helga's voice cracking. She was that good at hiding it. "I just…I miss you, Olga." she said, even quieter this time.

Olga restrained herself from tearing up, expelling a deep breath before replying. "I miss you too, Helga. I'll see you in a few days, okay?" Helga replied in stride, and Olga hung up the cordless phone, replacing it on its caddy. Fanning her face, she made sure that she was alright, and began tidying the apartment again. Within a few minutes, the doorbell rang, and Olga straightened her hair. She ordered a pizza before calling Helga and was sure that the delivery man had arrived. Sliding the money off of the coffee table, in exact change, Olga approached the door and opened it, expecting to find an acne-ridden high-school student carrying her dinner, anticipating a hefty tip.

She did not expect to see her ex-boyfriend, dressed in a perfectly-pressed white cotton shirt and khaki slacks, carrying a bouquet. Despite being dressed to perfection, he wore a five o'clock shadow and looked nothing short of completely miserable.

"Oh…" Olga said, her hand still poised on the doorknob. She had no intention of closing it on him, but she was in such a state of shock that she was briefly paralyzed, and entirely unsure of what to do. From the look on his own face, she surmised that he probably didn't know what to do either. "Would you like to come inside?" she asked.

This was shaping up to be an interesting night.

* * *

"I wanted to apologize." Drew said, calmly, but looking anything but. He and Olga were sitting on the long ivory couch, facing one another. For the past few minutes, they had only exchanged a few pleasantries; he asked how Helga was, she asked if it was still raining outside.

Olga met his gaze, crossed between confusion and glee at having him in her presence. She was never "ready" for them to break up, and even with Helga's best interests in mind, she still missed him occasionally.

"Why?" she asked, although she was somewhat aware of the reason.

"Because, I…I never meant to pressure you. And giving you an ultimatum…I don't even know where that came from. I was way out of line. I'm sorry." he said, still nervously holding the bouquet in his shaking fist. Noticing the quivering plants, he thrust them in her direction, hastily. "And these are for you."

"Thank you." Olga said, taking the bouquet, and running her fingers over the delicate white and purple irises. "And I guess I should apologize as well." she began, breathing heavily. "Drew, I love you. I do. And I love Helga. You two are probably the people I feel closest to in the world. And that's why getting married right now…I don't know if I can do that. To either of you."

Continuing, despite the look on Drew's face, Olga could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes. "I know how much time and effort it takes to maintain a marriage. And I really think that I'm ready for that. But, Helga and I…we're still getting close. I know that she trusts me, but I'm not always sure how much. Drew, she's so smart. She surprises me everyday with how quick and witty, and…smart she is. And sometimes, she gets so guarded; it's like, she doesn't even need me. And I know that if we got married, I'd be torn between you two; between growing closer to my husband, who I've vowed to love for the rest of my life, and my sister…whom I've loved for my life so far. I don't want either of you to feel like you have to vie for my love, or that you're being neglected." she finished, not noticing she was crying until she took a long, ragged breath and felt her chest ache.

Reaching forward, Drew cupped her cheek, using his thumb to brush away the tears that were steadily running down her cheeks. He waited until she ha calmed down before addressing her. "I know. I figured that would be why you said no. And I understand, completely. I would never want you to forsake your sister's feelings for mine. If anything, she deserves your affections more. The last thing I'd want to do is come between you." he said, meekly. "But please know, Olga, that no matter what. I will wait for you. Whenever you're ready. If it's a year, or two years, or ten years. Whenever _you're _ready, I will be too."

"Really?" Olga asked, uttering her question with a nearly inaudible squeak.

Drew laughed at her question and nodded. "Really." he said, dropping his hand from her face, and reaching into the pocket of his khaki pants. "In fact, if we could start all over, I think that might be for the best." he joked.

Olga laughed through her tears, and nodded at him. "Sounds good."

"Okay." Drew replied, sitting back. Extending his hand, and keeping the other one in his pocket, he motioned for Olga to shake his hand. "Hi, my name is Drew Micheals."

"Hi, I'm Olga Pataki." she said, beaming.

"Nice to meet you, Olga." Drew said, pulling his hand from his pocket. "I was hoping, maybe I could take you to dinner sometime." he suggested.

"That sounds very nice."

"And maybe, after that, I could…meet your sister."

"I think she'd like that."

"And then, only if you'd want to…" he began, breaking their gaze. When he did look at her again, she noticed the intensity with which he stared at her. Subtley, his thumb popped the top of a velvety, black box, loosening the hinge. "I'd like to make you my wife."

Olga sat wide-eyed and stared at Drew, until the ring in his lap attracted her gaze. The first ring he gave her was of a princess cut, with rounded diamonds surrounding it on a platinum band. More extravagant than she would have liked, but beautiful nonetheless. This ring was it's exact opposite. It was a simple, round stone in a gold setting. It was exactly what she wanted.

"You really want to marry me?' Olga asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Of course." Drew said, taking her free hand in his. "But," he began, taking on a comical tone. "Not for a while. We've only just met, and I'm not one to jump into a relationship so soon." he joked.

Olga smiled, and nodded. "Yes." she said, grinning widely.

"I'm sorry; I didn't quite hear that."

"I said, 'Yes'".

"One more time, I'm afraid you're going to have to speak up, young lady." Drew said, cupping his ear, and leaning toward Olga.

"Yes, Drew Micheals, I will marry you." she said, throwing her head back and shouting.

"Young lady, there's no need to yell-" he started, before Olga leaned forward unexpectedly quieted him by placing her lips over his own. Smiling against her mouth, Drew leaned forward and responded, positioning his hand on the side of Olga's face, and pressing forward. As abruptly as she kissed him, Olga disengaged, leaping backward on the couch.

"Sorry." she mumbled, awkwardly lifting herself from the couch, and reaching for the cordless phone again.

"Is everything alright?" Drew asked as Olga began dialing.

"Yeah, I just have to make a phone call." Olga said, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Let me guess, Helga?" Drew asked. He meant what he said about not coming in between the two. They complimented each other, and he found himself loving Olga for the person she became after she took Helga in.

"not quite…" she replied, listening to the ringing on the other end of the line.

"Who then?"

"The pizza guy. I was supposed to get my dinner over half of an hour ago. I think that merits a free pizza."

Drew smiled, and turned back around on the couch. "I'm glad I came over then. I got a fiancée and free dinner."

* * *

"I'm so glad to be home." Helga sighed, slouching in the front seat of Olga's car. 'Talk about de ja vu…' she thought, reminiscing about the first time Olga picked her up from the airport. Olga offered rides to the rest of Helga's friends, but they all replied saying that their parents were coming to get them. After they pulled out from the airport parking lot, Helga couldn't stop talking about how happy she was to be going back home.

"I'm glad you're home too. I have so much to tell you." Olga said, smiling to herself. She had managed to keep Helga out of the loop regarding her engagement; wanting to tell her in person as opposed to over the phone. Despite the fact that it would prove to be a long engagement, she was still excited.

"What? Did you finally get rid of those tragic Crocs you've been wearing since forever?" Helga asked eagerly.

"No, but they suspiciously went missing after you left for Vermont. Any idea where they could be?" Olga asked.

"Nope."

"That's fine." Olga said, laughing quietly. "Oh, and I need to ask you something."

"Go ahead." Helga replied, with no idea of what her sister was planning.

"I was thinking about…well, I might need your help with…do you like pink?' Olga asked, wincing at the way in which the question came out. She planned it much better in her head.

Helga furrowed her brow, confused by her sister's question. "Um, not really."

"Good, that's what I thought." Olga said.

"Why do you ask? Did you repaint my room, or something?" Helga asked, worried.

"No. I was thinking of colors. I wasn't sure what you liked. Or, rather, what would look nice on you. I mean, if I'm going to be all dressed up, then I figure that you should look nice too." she said, hoping Helga would catch on, but knowing that she wouldn't. "How about blue?"

"What are you talking about? Are we going to a party, or something?"

"Kind of. But we have to go to a ceremony first."

"We're going to a wedding? Whose is it?" Helga asked, titling her head to the side, obviously confused. She couldn't figure out why Olga cared so much about how she looked if she didn't even know whose wedding she was going to.

"Yeah, we are." Olga said, simply.

"Well, when is it?"

"I don't know…" Olga said. She wasn't lying; she and Drew hadn't set a date. Yet.

"Well, where is it?" Helga was growing impatient, now. It was as if Olga was trying ot confuse her.

"I don't know that either…"

"So, we're going to a wedding, but we don't know when or where it is? Sounds like a bucket of fun…"

Olga smiled at her sister. The indirect approach was obviously not working. "Can you hand me a napkin from the glove compartment?" Olga said as she pulled up to their apartment building.

Helga rolled her eyes and opened the glove compartment, and put a few napkins in Olga's outstretched and fluttering hand. As she handed her the napkins, she paused, and clutched her sister's hand, catching sight of something glimmering on one of her long fingers.

"Olga?'

"Yes, Helga?"

"There is a suspicious looking piece of jewelry on your finger, that was not there prior to my departure."

"I know." Olga responded, no longer trying to keep the wide smile from her face. Helga turned her head slowly, watching her sister with wide eyes.

"Are you…"

"Yeah."

"And he…"

"Yeah."

"And he doesn't mind…"

"Not at all."

Helga let a smile slowly inch up her own face and matched her sister's. "wow."

"I know!' Olga shrieked, rocking the immobile car. "I'm getting married!"

* * *

__

"I fear no fate

For you are my fate, my sweet

I want no world

for beautiful you are my world, my true

And it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you."

* * *

Helga smoothed the front of her dress one more time, and stepped back from the mirror. Walking toward the door to her modest hotel room, she checked the hallway and advanced to the far right. At the end of the well lit hallway, illuminated from the large windows at both ends, sat a pair of elaborate double doors. Knocking on them quietly, Helga waited for them to open.

When no reply came, Helga pushed on the door; leaning her weight on them until they gave way. Once inside, Helga pushed it in the opposite direction, and locked it so that no curious guests would wander inside.

"Olga?" she said, walking toward the back of the ornate room, where the bathroom and closet were located. "Olga?" she said again, pausing at the closet door.

Inside the lavish walk-in closet, sat a vanity mirror, and before it, sat Olga, baring her back to Helga. Coming up behind her, Helga inspected the wardrobe; as elaborate as it was, it was also empty. This didn't surprise Helga much; the wedding party only took up the occupancy of the hotel for a few days leading up until the wedding.

"Olga, are you alright?" Helga asked, when her sister didn't respond. Walking around to face her, Helga's face grew worried when she did catch sight of Olga. Even in her beautiful wedding dress, Olga's face was sullen and downcast and the remnants of fallen tears were still evident on her cheeks. Kneeling in front of her, Helga reached for a napkin on the mirror-stand and dabbed at her sister's face. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

Olga took in a breath sharply, and her face wrinkled again, prepared to shed more tears. "I'm so stupid." she squeaked, gasping.

Helga smiled, trying to comfort her sister. "No, you're not. you're not stupid." she replied, going to work on the fresh tears that were making their way down Olga's face. "Why would you even think that?"

"Because…" Olga said, blinking her eyes rapidly to dispel any more tears. "Look at you…and then look at me." she said, her voice growing higher as she cried more.

Meanwhile, Helga was beyond confused. If the issue was whether or not she looked better than Olga, then she wasn't sure how to address it. Olga (without trying, per usual) looked stunning, but Helga knew that her sister wouldn't believe her, even if it was the truth.

"Olga, I-"

"I mean, it's been…what? Eight years? We haven't seen them in eight years, Helga. And you never so much as wrinkle your brow over it. I've heard you with your friends, with Arnold. You can laugh about it." she said, smiling herself. "But here I am. On my wedding day, sitting in an empty closet, crying over something so…stupid."

Helga's shoulders dropped at Olga's confession. Above all else, she was shocked, although the emotion didn't register on her face. She thought that, since Olga only spent a few days a year in the presence of their parents, that she felt the pain of their desertion far les than Helga, who lived with them up until that terrible night. And while Helga was young, she figured that Olga's age would help her to cope with it, and get over their lack of parental affection faster. She forgot, however, that, even though Olga didn't live with Bob and Miriam, she was far closer to them. She had come to expect more from her parents, whereas Helga knew that they didn't owe her much, and lived her life accordingly.

"I know it's stupid to think about it, but I just…in spite of everything, I still…"

"…wanted him to walk you down the aisle?" Helga asked, speaking of their estranged father. Even before they left, she had long since called him "Dad", or anything resembling it.

"Kind of." Olga said, quietly.

Helga searched the room with her eyes, desperately thinking of a way to calm Olga's nerves. She knew exactly how she was able to move on from the incident with her parents. She merely told herself that she was better off without them. But Olga was different. Olga couldn't be told to get over things, or to forget about people, despite how badly they had hurt her. She was too loving, and too kind to truly hate anyone. Helga felt a brief surge of relief wash over her when Olga spoke.

"I must look kind of silly right now." she said, smiling.

"Just a little." Helga said, handing her sister the tissue. "Thank goodness for waterproof mascara, right?" she joked.

"I'm sorry, Helga. I had a moment. I'm fine, I promise." she said, wiping her eyes, but avoiding her modest makeup.

"Are you sure?" Helga asked. Part of her wanted to be a pillar for Olga, to keep her strong. But Helga knew that it wasn't her place anymore. It was Drew's. And she couldn't have been happier for either of them.

"Yes. Today isn't about them. It's about me. And you. And Drew."

"In that order?"

Olga paused and widened her smile. "No. Not quite. But it's about the three of us. You and Drew are the only family I need anymore." she said, lightly touching her sister's cheek. "Now, stand up. Let me look at you."

Helga rolled her eyes and smiled, but in the end complied and stood for Olga, who stayed seated and inspected the dress. It was a halter dress that fell just below Helga's knees. The material had a sheen to it, that would catch the afternoon sun just as Olga anticipated. The sweetheart neckline and wide straps accented Helga's long neck and shoulders, while the pale yellow hue set off her blue eyes and dark blonde hair.

"You look beautiful, baby sister." Olga said, smiling and giddy with delight.

"Alright, alright, your turn." Helga said, placing one hand on her hip and motioning with the other for Olga to join her in standing. Olga, instead, grabbed her sister's hand, and the two exited the closet, walking toward the full length mirror toward the front room of Olga's suite. Standing before it, side by side, the two looked over each other, and themselves.

Olga's dress was simple, just as Olga wanted. The neckline was low, but still tasteful, enhanced by the gathering of fabric on the torso. The skirt of her dress flared out around her long legs, and floated over the ground. A sheer coating of pearl-colored fabric covered the entirety of the dress, giving Olga a truly angelic look. Her makeup was scant; she rarely used it, and seldom needed any. Even so, on her eyes she wore a thin layer of pearl eyeshadow and on her cheeks was an equal amount of rogue. Her hair was style classically, pulled to a low, naturally curled ponytail, accented by a yellow lily, like to ones in her bouquet and the colors of her bridesmaid dresses.

"You look awesome, Olga." Helga said, stepping away from her sister to take in the full effect.

"Really? You don't think the hair is too much?" she asked nervously.

"No, it's fine." Helga laughed. "Drew is going to go crazy when he sees you!"

This time, the rogue on Olga's face wasn't due to anything that came in a jar or tube. "Helga, I'm so excited! I'm getting married!' she said, beginning to jump up and down.

"Oh yeah, that's what I came to tell you: it's time to go downstairs, and change your last name." Helga snatched her sister's veil from atop the king-sized bed, and tried to straighten it on her sister's head.

Instead of replying (again), Olga latched on to her sister's arm and ran out of the room, allowing the heavy doors to close behind them. While on the elevator, Helga fanned her sister's face, and fixed a few stray locks.

"Are you ready?" Helga asked, when the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened to the lavish hotel lobby.

"…Yes." Olga said, still clutching her sister's arm, and staring ahead nervously.

"You sure?"

"…Of course." Olga said, trying to sound sure of herself, when she in fact, wasn't.

"And are you actually going to breathe when we go down the aisle? You practically passed out during the rehearsal…" Helga said, about to check her Olga's pulse. Walking through the lobby toward the East courtyard, Helga watched as hotel patrons and employees stopped whatever they were doing: unloading luggage carts, checking in, or heading towards the pool, just to watch Olga walk nervously to her own wedding.

For the first time, in a long time, Helga wasn't jealous of Olga, or the attention that she naturally got from people. Aside from the fact that it was Olga's wedding day, Helga knew that her sister deserved to be doted upon and admired. The past two years were not easy for either of them, but Olga took everything in stride, and was now getting what she deserved. She was a stunning bride, a loving sister, and would undoubtedly make a fine wife.

The long hallway leading to the courtyard was ending, and Helga made sure that her sister's veil was in place, and gave her one last lingering hug. "You'll be fine." Helga assured her when the parted. Noticing that Olga's brow was beginning to crease, Helga firmly placed her finger between her sister's eyes. "No, no, no. No crying. Understand?" she chided. Olga nodded, and looked at the door. The ushers at the door awaited their signal from Helga, to open the doors. Beyond those doors would be their wedding guests; a few close friends and family members, then the wedding party, consisting mostly of Olga and Drew's colleagues. At the end of aisle would stand Drew. Helga had seen him earlier that morning, to make sure everything was going according to plan, and to see if he needed anything prior to the ceremony.

Helga held out her arm, allowing Olga to latch on, and smile nervously. Exhaling simultaneously, Helga nodded to the ushers, took Olga's bouquet of yellow and white lilies and placed them in her quivering hands, and felt Olga tense as the doors opened slowly. Placing her hand over her sister's Helga motioned forward, allowing Olga with enough leverage to move forward as well.

During the rehearsal, Olga said she wanted her gait with Helga toward the altar, to be slow and steady. Helga, however, could hardly ignore her sister's nervous tugging, making their trip down the aisle faster than she anticipated. Petting her sister's hand, in an effort to quell her nerves, Helga continued walking steadily, and felt relief when Olga's breathing evened out and she slowed down as well. Diverting her gaze from the end of the aisle, Helga looked out into their small audience, and smiled. Among them was Lila, and her new short haircut, grinning widely, and closer to the front, her aunt and cousins. Next to her aunt sat Arnold, nodding and smiling knowingly at her. Turning away quickly, knowing that she would either trip over her own feet (and inevitably bring Olga down with her) or begin laughing, thus distracting Olga, and starting the wedding off on the wrong foot.

Peering to the side, Helga watched Olga as they advanced down the aisle, noticing that her eyes never left Drew. At first, she admitted, she was apprehensive about letting Olga go, a far stretch from how she felt in the years prior. She used to cherish the times when Olga was away at college, or teaching under-privileged Inuit children, or just…gone. And now, she marveled, Olga was about to embark on a life that was separate from hers. And even though both Drew and Olga assured her that she would be part of their life-part of their family (the word itself still scared Helga somewhat) she knew that she would have to step down in some respects. Nevertheless, she loved Drew, and loved Olga even more, and found the position less daunting than she perceived before.

The cloud cover kept the guests and herself from being blinded by the white and yellow that decorated the small courtyard, and allowed enough sunlight to warm the small crowd and cast a shadow under he canopy were Drew stood, poised and ready to accept his bride. Pausing just before the canopy, and a man in an impressive, black, tailored suit, Drew's father, stepped forward, and smiled at Helga and Olga.

"And who gives this woman, to be given in marriage?" he asked, smiling at the sisters.

Helga looked at her sister, whose eyes were already forming premature tears. "I do." she said, offering a short hug, and guiding her toward Drew. During rehearsal, Drew stayed put, and waited for Olga. This time, Helga was thrown off, when with one hand, Drew reached for Olga, and stepped toward them. Enveloping her in a wide hug, Helga made an audible gasp before returning the hug. Before he let go, Drew said something that threatened to release the tears that she kept dormant.

"Thank you…baby sister."

Stepping back, Helga released her sister's hand, and watched silently as they stepped on the small platform and faced each other. The ceremony began, and Helga allowed her mind to wander momentarily, while still being enraptured with the moment.

'Wow,' she thought, closing her eyes briefly and inhaling deeply. 'This is what it feels like…'

* * *

"So…"

"So…?" Arnold replied, finishing off his slice of cake.

"So, we've been at this reception for over 45 minutes, and you have yet to mention how amazing I look." Helga said, setting down her glass of punch and looking away from Arnold. The reception area wasn't far off from the courtyard. The hotel property was lush and green and the white tent under which the dining tables were set up filtered the sunlight.

"Did I really forget?" Arnold asked, knowing that Helga was only joking; as soon as the ceremony was over and all the photos taken, he made sure to let Helga know that, as striking as Olga looked in her gown, it was she who captured his attention the entire time. "I apologize Ms. Helga. You look absolutely amazing today."

"Thank you." she replied, as if he were stating a fact. The two laughed at the exchange, before a dark-haired young man tapped on Helga's shoulder nervously.

"I'm sorry, but the bride and groom would like a photo." he said, gesturing to Olga and Drew, who were waving Helga over.

Planting a kiss on Arnold's cheek, Helga stood, and promised to be right back. Walking up to them, they exchanged hugs (again) and Helga awaited an explanation. She'd taken numerous photos with Olga out in the courtyard, and was unsure why she'd want another one.

Sensing her sister's confusion at her request, Olga spoke. "I just wanted one more photo…" she began, looking to Drew, affectionately. "…of our family. The whole family."

Helga looked from her sister to her (new) brother, and felt her mouth forming a shaky smile. Nodding accordingly and standing next to Olga, Helga smiled genuinely into the lens of the camera, repeating her earlier idiom.

'This is what it feel like…' she thought, as the photographer asked them to say "Cheese!' and his command.

'This is my family.'

* * *

_"Here is the deepest secret nobody knows_

_  
Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud_

_  
And the sky of the sky of a tree called life;_

_which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide_

_  
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart_

_A carry your heart,_

_I carry it in my heart."_

* * *

__

Aggghhhh! That was crazy! This is probably one of my most favorite chapters of Back Home! I'm so proud of myself for writing this. Funny thing, this is the most romantic chapter I've probably ever written…and it's not even an ArnoldxHelga romance…well it sort of is…at the end. Had to add that in…hoped you liked it.

This chapter is dedicated to my sister (Aww). I kind of felt like Helga at one time (and still do, every so often), about my sister getting married. My sister is at that age, where marriage is an option, and even though the parents have to let go (in Helga and Olga's case, not so much…), siblings feel it a little more. Olga said it herself ( in season four, episode one, Student Teacher…yes, I am that big of a nerd…) That "sibling relationships are the most important relationships we as human beings can develop"…or something like that. But I wanted to get both sides of the picture; Olga not wanting Helga to feel neglected, and Helga, wanting her sister to be happy. I think it worked out. And the poem is called "I Carr Your Heart With Me", by E.E. Cummings, and it is my favorite poem in all the world, mostly because it reminds me of my sister, as well. Sorry about the spacing, by the way.

What else? I always ask that, because there's always more for me to say. There are pictures on my profile of Olga's gown, and Helga's dress (it's shown without straps, but just pretend like they're there). Actually, the hair I planned for Olga is on the picture for Helga's dress. So just imagine that too. Have fun with all of that.

Oh, this is important. **PAY ATTENTION TO WHAT I'M ABOUT TO SAY**: I have a poll on my profile, that will more than likely, determine the future of back home. So I need you to vote. You can vote as often as you like and you even get to pick more than one choice. So go! Vote! Tell your friends, tell them all! Please and thank you.

Lastly, the next epilogue will be the last, and probably, the most epic. All questions are to be answered. It's going to be crazy as all heck! It can go either way; you can love it, or hate it. But either way…you will…love it.

Hope you enjoyed!

-PointyObjects


	18. This is Home

**Back Home**

**Epilogue IV: This is Home**

_"I've got my memories,_

_Always inside of me._

_But, I can't go back, back to how it was._

_I believe now, I've come too far._

_No, I can't go back, back to how it was._

_Created for a place I've never known._

_This is home,_

_Now I'm finally where I belong._

_Where I belong._

_Yeah, this is home._

_I've been searching for a place of my own._

_Now I've found it; maybe this is home._

_Yeah, this is home."_

_-Switchfoot_

_"This is Home"_

* * *

"Knock knock…"

"Come in, even though I know you're already here…" Helga sighed, keeping her eyes closed smiling to let her sister know she wasn't upset.

"Guilty as charged." Olga replied, sitting on the edge of Helga's bed, where she was stretched out. "You okay?' she asked.

"Yup." Helga said, straining to sit up after an extended nap. She knew that she had plans for that afternoon, but decided to relax anyway. "Why do you ask?

"No reason, really. Just wanted to make sure." Olga said, taking a glance around the quaint room. Helga had only begun to decorate it a few short weeks ago, waiting until she heard back from a few colleges to see if she'd even need to. To Olga's excitement, she would be attending a school nearby, and didn't have to leave. "I'm proud of you. You know that, right?"

Helga scoffed. "You had better be. Need I remind you that I graduated 19th in a class of 413 students?" Helga joked.

"Yeah, but you know what I mean." Olga said, halfheartedly smoothing out a wrinkle on Helga's comforter. "We did pretty good for ourselves, didn't we?"

"Duh. We Pataki girls don't go down easy."

Olga cupped her earlobe and leaned toward her sister. "I'm sorry; what was that?" she said, smiling.

Helga rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry; _this _Pataki girl, and that _Micheals _girl, don't go down easy."

"That's more like it." Olga replied, sitting back to rest her delicate hands in her lap. Helga sat amazed as her sister continued to beam like a four year old with a new toy.

"You are such a newlywed." she stated, shaking her head as though disappointed. The truth was, she was anything but. Drew turned out to be everything the two didn't know that they needed. "Speaking of my wonderful, new big brother, where is he?"

Motioning to the door with her thumb, Olga replied. "He's headed to the park to make sure there are no crashers. You know Drew…"

Helga merely shrugged her shoulders and cast her eyes around the room. She was well aware that Olga and Drew were throwing her a graduation party; the had long since stopped trying to surprise her. She either found out, or found herself surprised in the worst way, and thus, instated a "No More Surprise Parties For Helga Act", which was still being adhered to quite a while later.

"He wanted me to give you this, though…" Olga said, placing a lavender box with a pale yellow ribbon binding it, on top of Helga's bed, between the two of them. Helga smiled at her sister, and took the box quietly. Slowly opening it, her once playful grin dropped into one of shock, before her mouth formed a wide 'O' shape.

Sitting upon a tiny cushion within the box was a yellow lily pendant on a silver chain. The flower was exactly as Helga remembered it from Olga's wedding, barely two months ago; the bright orange center, freckled with darker spots, fanning out into a pale yellow color. The ornament was no bigger than a quarter, but Helga was so captivated with it's color and precision, that she ignored the look of anticipation on her sister's face.

"Do you like it?" she asked, nervousness lacing her voice.

Looking up from the box, Helga smiled. "I love it. It's perfect."

"We found it in St. Thomas on the last day of our honeymoon. Drew remembered how much you liked them when you were helping with the wedding, and thought you'd like this too."

While Olga spoke, Helga gently removed the necklace from the box, and reached behind her own neck and struggled to latch the chain. Once she did so successfully, Helga strained to see it, resting her chin on her chest and petting the spot where the pendant sat.

"Of course I like it. I'm going to brag about it all day." she replied, lifting her chin to show it's effect to her sister.

"Glad to hear it. Let's get going; I have a feeling that Drew's going to start digging into the cake early." Olga sat, lifting herself off of the bed.

Helga leapt off of the bed, and followed Olga out the door. They climbed into Olga's car, and began driving to Tina Park. Drew and Olga spent a small sum of money to reserve a pavilion out there for Helga and some of her friends. Helga informed them that she didn't want a party; that graduating and going to college was enough, but they insisted, especially after she was responsible for the bulk of the planning that went behind their wedding. She arranged all meetings with the florists, tailors, event coordinators and found their perfect venue. Initially, when she'd approach a business about planning a wedding, they doubted her, since at the time, she was only 17. But by the end of their brief meeting and with the introduction of her immense wedding planning guide and quick wit, they knew she meant business. So, as a thank-you, Olga and Drew arranged a small gathering for her. And she was expressly forbidden from helping out in any sense of the word.

"Excited about this fall?" Olga asked, tuning smoothly a few short blocks from the park entrance.

"Very." Helga replied, not bothering to hide her smile. "The environment seems nice, the campus id great, and the writing department is supposed to be amazing."

"And the fact that your boyfriend is conveniently going there as well is just a perk, right?" Olga asked suspiciously, but smiling through her joke.

"What?" Helga asked, feigning shock. "Arnold is going to NYU too? I had no idea…"

"Very funny. But if I find out that the two of you are sneaking around…" she warned.

"Oh, how very parental of you, dear sister. What do you mean "sneaking around"? Neither of us got dorms, so it's nnot like we'd have anywhere to go."

"You don't need a dorm to be sneaky." Olga said, as though stating the obvious. "There's abandoned wings of the school, and empty stairwells, and…the Religious History section of the Library…where no one ever goes."

Helga wrinkled her nose. "Whatever. How do you know all of this, anyway?"

"I was in college once upon a time, too." she replied, simply.

Helga's eyes widened at her sister's words. "Meaning…?"

"Meaning…" Olga began. "I know all the little tricks that you kids play."

"Do tell…" Helga suggested, noticing that they weren't far from the recreational area.

"His name was Seabert Wright, and we'd-"

"Hold on." Helga said, interrupting. "You dated a guy named _Seabert_ Wright?!" Olga looked thoroughly embarrassed at the memory.

"Unfortunately in my younger years I was a very poor judge of character." she said, shaking her head. Helga was sure that she was reminiscing about Doug Liar McScamface, or whatever his last name was. Deciding not to chastise her sister, Helga was still shocked at the ridiculousness of the name.

"What kind of name is _Seabert_ Wright? Who hates their child enough to name them _Seabert_ Wright?"

"I always guessed that they were into sailing, or fishing." Olga said. "Anyway, we met in the 5th floor stairwell of Wellington College for exactly 3 weeks." Olga said, pulling up to the park and turning off the car.

"Sounds like fun…to think, you could have been Mrs. _Seabert _Wright, if things were different." Helga joked, stepping out of the car, noticing the darkening sky. Summer showers had been common and relatively short, so even if it did rain, Helga was sure it wouldn't be anything epic.

"I don't think so." Olga said, spotting the reserved pavilion up on a hill and walking toward it. Drew hauled the picnic supplies when he left earlier, and walked up the hill empty handed. "I hope it doesn't rain on your parade. Literally."

"Me too."

Helga suddenly heard her name from behind, and turned just in time for Arnold to scoop her into his arms and whirl her around a few times. She smiled and laughed, waiting for him to put her down. When he didn't, she recognized the force of his embrace; he held her almost tenderly, attempting to keep her safe. He held her as if she were about to break. When he did release her, he avoided her gaze, until she addressed him.

"What's wrong, Arnold?" she asked, worried.

"Nothing." he said, immediately putting on a happier face.

"Is everyone at the pavilion already?" Helga asked, turning back toward the hill.

"No, Phoebe just called, she's on her way. Same with everybody else." he noted, his eyes shifting from Helga's, where they stayed stagnate and reassuring, to the pavilion, where they were laced with anxiety, and briefly to Olga's, signaling something. Helga caught each look that he gave, especially the ones that weren't meant for her, and questioned him again.

"Are you sure nothing's wrong?"

"Of course. I have your gift in the car. We can go get it…" he suggested.

Helga, however, turned to look once more at the pavilion. "No, that's fine." she said, obviously distracted.

"Well, Drew's not done with the decorations. We can wait down here for a few-"

"Arnold, what's up there? Tell me the truth." she said, furrowing her brow in worry. He was hiding something from her. And it wasn't just decorations or a present. His silence did nothing for her, and in an instant, she tore out of his grasp and shot up the hill.

Arnold, not expecting her speed, ran after her, calling her name all the while, struggling to catch up with her. In turn, Olga followed the two up there, for the sake of checking on Drew and figuring out what made Helga so upset.

When Helga arrived at the covered gazebo, the sky had begun crackling, signaling a thunderstorm on it's way. Disregarding the fact, Helga looked around for Drew. The gazebo was fully decorated, yellow and lavender (her favorite colors) streamers adorning the wide banisters. Taped over the seats were long posters that read "Congrats!" and "Happy Graduation!" and the like. Helga paused to smile at the trouble that Drew went through, but was soon distracted by the exchange going on, outside of the gazebo, parallel to her. Stepping outside, she drowned out the sound of Arnold calling her name from behind her and focused on the altercation that was in process, not far off.

"I don't think this is a good idea-"

"You don't understand! And who are you supposed to be, anyway?!"

"I do understand, but I really think you both should lea-"

Helga was confused as to why Drew was arguing with a bunch of park-goers, that, to her, didn't seem to be doing anything wrong. Maybe the park mixed up reservations and they thought that they reserved the same pavilion on the same day.

"Drew?" Helga asked from behind him, and she was shocked at the momentum with which he turned to face her. He looked truly shocked to see her, and began to stammer an excuse, for any questions that she was bound to ask.

"What's going on?" she inquired. By this time, Arnold had caught up with her, and stood a few feet behind, matching Drew's expression of nervous anticipation.

"Helga, maybe you should-"

"Helga?"

For the first time since discovering the argument, Helga looked at the other participants. There was a man, tall and portly, wearing more weight than he should have. His hair was cut low, in a style that Helga saw little of, except on military commanders. He looked at her as though he were confused, which, in turn, confused Helga. Behind him stood a shorter woman, no taller than herself, with dark brown hair cut into a tragic bob, the ends curling just below her ears. She too, was slightly overweight, but the pair was pretty average to Helga.

Looking back to Drew, Helga silently questioned why he was standing out there, arguing with some pretty harmless looking strangers. Above them, the sky roared and darkened further, but everyone stood in place.

Finally, Drew spoke, quietly, to his little sister. "Helga, I think you should go back to the car." he said, keeping his eyes fixed on hers.

Before she could ask why, the couple stepped forward, looking astonished, uttering her name in a tone barely above a whisper. Helga took one more look at the them, under a suspicious gaze, before she reeled back from insight. In the passing of a second, she felt her breath leave her body, and the overwhelming need to collapse.

She saw Drew hang his head, in what was probably shame and a sadness at the emotions to come.

She saw these two…_strangers_, the excitement on their faces making her heart race and her anger grow.

But lastly, she felt. She felt the rain, soaking into her hair and clothes and skin. She felt the wind beating against her face as she sped past Arnold, out of the park. One block. Two blocks. Five blocks.

She felt the pouring rain, that caused her hair to cling to her damp face, the constriction of her chest in retaliation from unshed tears, and the aged wood of the door to a house; one that she had never called her home, but the only place that would bring her solace.

Helga could not think of a time that was more inconvenient for _them _to return.

But there they were. Robert Daniel and Miriam Annabelle Pataki.

They, too, were back home.

* * *

__

"Belief over misery,

I've seen the enemy,

And I won't go back, back to how it was.

And I got my heart set on what happens next.

I got my eyes wide, it's not over yet.

We are miracles,

And we're not alone."

* * *

_Isn't that awful? I mean, that's just terrible. Well, there you have it. The final epilogue of Back Home. I know, I know…I said that "all questions would be answered", and other such malarkey, but I'm saving it. Worry not, the sequel is coming. As of now, exactly 50 percent of you said to continue on, and everyone else agreed, but with terms. Some said to make sure to add lots of Arnold and Helga moments (that's guaranteed) and to wait until The Compromise is finished. The first is definitely doable, but as for waiting until Compromise is finished…not so sure about that one. Compromise is going to be my longest work of fiction (I'm on chapter 12 as of late, and I still haven't gotten the juicy part!) So, waiting until Compromise would be…a long wait. And I'm impatient. So, expect it…well, I have a few projects lined up, but after **Arnolds Love **and **the amazing finn's **present is complete, then you'll have your sequel. It won't be terribly long. No more than...6 or so chapters. But it'll be good. Promise.  
_

_The song used her is so utterly perfect. D+Refernce the top of the page for name and artist. I heard it at work, and knew that I had to add it to my story. I'm a little bit sad. This is the actual end to Back Home.I now the sequal is coming, but this one is really done this time. No more epilogues...hope everyone enjoyded it. Thank you!_

_-PointyO_


End file.
